Louder Than Words
by Vitani
Summary: They were tired of running away, so an offer from Lex Luthor to stand their ground and fight, on their own terms, was too good to pass up. Yet they knew others were still following their tracks—and it seems not only the Reach and S.T.A.R. were close on their heels. Who else was hunting them out? Filler between the episodes Runaways and The Hunt. Rated for language and violence.
1. Welcome to this Circus Sideshow

**Author's Note:** The Runaways need some more fanfic love around here! And I was intrigued by Lex Luthor's remark about needing "a team of his own", as well as Green Beetle's implication that the Reach would "find them again in time". It made me wonder what exactly the kids were doing those two weeks in-between their primary episodes. So here's my take, a little introspective adventure. Beware of some fan theories and cross-over baddies. Story is titled after the Les Friction song of the same name. **Cover artwork** by me.

Also, I don't know much Spanish, and I've off-and-on self-studied Japanese for years but am still only beginner level; so please forgive any poor grammar in the non-English. I've purposefully _not_ included translations because that's how they do it in the series, leave you guessing. XD If anybody wants me to include subtitles, just let me know.

****Disclaimers:** **The cartoon _Young Justice_ and its characters remain the property of © Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, Cartoon Network, and DC Comics Entertainment. All rights reserved to the original creators. No infringement is intended by this not-for-profit fan story that was written exclusively for fun.

* * *

><p><strong>Louder Than Words<strong>  
>a <em>Young Justice<em> fan fiction

**I. **

**"With no choice, their backs to the wall,  
><strong>**work with us or lose it all..." **

"What do you say?"

Virgil looked from Eduardo to Tye, sharing their same feelings of worry and uncertainty. He could tell Ed had misgivings over Lex Luthor's desire for trust, and in Tye's eyes was a bleak dare, as if asking what other alternatives they had at this point. When he turned to Asami, he found her hopefully watching the boys, waiting for them to lead the way. They were tired, hungry, and left without much choice—and here was someone offering a helping hand. Even better, he was offering them the chance to pave their own way. Virgil relented.

"Okay," he said. "I guess we're in."

Luthor smiled, a pleasant, charismatic flash of his teeth holding little warmth. His face was also a stony enigma, a seasoned businessman used to offering only what he felt necessary at the time; right now, his eyes were encouraging and friendly. Yet Virgil decided he didn't like Lex Luthor very much.

"But only on one condition. Seein' as how we're the ones with the superpowers, seems to me you need us more than we need you. Which means if we eventually want out down the line, that's it, end of story."

Now Luthor's smile showed true amusement, but he didn't argue the fact. "Of course. There are no pre-requisites with me, no stipulations or laboratory documents requiring a parent's signature. You lot are free to do as you please, and all I ask is for your help, from time to time."

Virgil exchanged nods with the others, even Sam, before saying, "Deal."

"Perfect. Then let's get this team off the streets."

Lex Luthor walked in a dignified manner back to the town car, but the Runaways hesitated. His assistant, a silently demanding woman, stayed behind, watching the kids with a patient and direct look. With no graciousness, she waved a hand towards the vehicle, and Virgil went, followed by the others, and then the suited lady.

She opened the backseat door for her boss and waited for each of them to board as well. Sam slightly bowed before getting in, followed by a brooding Ed, and Tye glared at the woman before he climbed inside. Virgil, however, paused, hearing his mother's age-old wisdom echo through his mind: never get into a car with a stranger. For some reason, the warning seemed fair.

Shaking it off, he joined his friends, sliding into the car, too. He sat next to Tye, with Eduardo on the end; they allowed Sam to share the forward-facing seat with Luthor, so she wouldn't have to be smashed between the boys, and allowed free space to avoid the businessman. They all sat uncomfortably when the assistant shut the door.

Silence ensued, and it was a good, long while of driving before Virgil asked, "So, where are you taking us?"

"Out of town for now. I'll set you up with an apartment, which you can consider your base of operations. A _temporary_ base."

"Why?"

"In view of everything, it will be wise if you keep moving living arrangements. You're a new team, and I think a low profile would be best, for starters."

"You keep calling us a team," Tye said suspiciously.

"Are you not?"

"_Your_ team?"

Luthor appeared pleased with Tye's brute candor, an admiring grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He returned, "I think you've formed a bond, made a team dynamic, long before I got involved. Remember, Tye, I said I've been watching you for weeks, so I've seen you four at your best."

"And our worst," muttered Ed.

"Consider them character-defining moments. Come to that–" Lex Luthor withdrew a smart-phone from his breast pocket and offered it to Eduardo Jr.. "Would you like to call your father? There is also a phone in the car, if any of you care to let your families know you're safe."

"For real?" asked Virgil, a spark of hope at the thought of calling his parents.

"This is not a lockdown. I said, with me, you have all your freedom."

Eduardo promptly shook his head no, awkwardly turning to stare out the window. Even though the idea of speaking with his folks was appealing, Virgil hesitated. He didn't want to jeopardize the well-being of his family, even in the slightest; after all, they had agreed to leave him under the care of S.T.A.R. Labs and he'd already put them in a spot of bother by running away. However, the gesture put a favorable light on the businessman.

"Maybe later," he said.

"If you wait until tomorrow, I will arrange to have clean devices delivered for you. Once you're settled, I wouldn't recommend using the landlines."

"Paranoid much?" Tye jeered.

"And why not? Although I work with the Reach, I don't think that frees me from their watchdogs. On the contrary, it makes me a prime target. I take the utmost precautions, especially knowing they may in fact be playing me. You know firsthand they enjoy playing with humans."

Crossing his legs and pulling himself up straight in the seat, Tye met Luthor's eyes with a fierceness. "Okay, give. What exactly is your deal? What do you want us to do?" At the serious implication, all the Runaways waited expectantly for the answer.

"I liberated you to be free as I am not, to take action when I mustn't. Obviously, I can't expose myself as leaking any of this information, and at the moment I shouldn't break ties with the Reach. I stand closer to the helm and therefore am able to obtain deeper secrets—knowledge which could just save this planet in the end. This _is_ an alien invasion, my young friends."

"You afraid of them?" Eduardo asked.

"To an extent. Being so close to the root of evil, I consider myself at greater risk. Likewise, if you are seen with me it also puts you four in even greater peril. We all need to be on the defense."

Virgil cocked his head as he listened to Lex Luthor, taking in every word and its inflection. He didn't seem scared, and his tone wasn't courageous; he seemed blunt and thoughtful, making him extremely hard to judge. If he was worried for himself, or for his new team, he hid it well. Virgil understood Tye's apprehension. _What _is_ this guy's game?_

In the end, it didn't matter. He was giving them an opportunity for some payback, a chance to use their newfound meta-powers to hit the aliens where it hurt. And if indeed this was a scheming takeover plot by the Reach, they might even save some lives. All it took was a vision of his family bound and chained by Black Beetle, his sister podded for the scientists, for Virgil to be all in.

Surprising the others with his earnest query, he said, "So you'll give us missions when something comes up?"

"Precisely."

"And in the meantime?" Tye countered.

"You can do as you see fit," Luthor stated, flicking his shoulders in a shrug. "But I might suggest getting in the Reach's face a bit, in any small way possible. If you'll allow me time, I shall devise a plan for you to go for the throat—"

"While we keep nippin' at their heels," Virgil said, eagerly grinning.

"I like the way you think, young Mr. Hawkins."

Eduardo wore a side-grin, inspired by the notion of being a rabble-rouser, while Tye remained darkly lost in his own mind, considering the pact set forth. Suddenly, Lex Luthor turned to Sam, who remained quietly observant and politely puzzled all the while.

"Asami-chan, nani o kangaeteru ka?"

Perking up at the sound of her native language, she gripped the edge of the seat with both hands and tilted her head from side to side, reflecting. Finally she replied, "Saa na… Shiretakoto watashi wa wakaranai zutto. Demo ne, _Riichi_ o tatakau tedasuke ga shitai."

"Brave girl."

Happy to be connected to their conversation, Sam looked across at the boys with a smile. She gave them a thumbs up, and Virgil guessed she, too, was all in. He also noticed Tye brighten at last, mimicking her smile. For some reason, it made him pleased to see.

"In any case," Luthor went on, "tonight is for recovering. If you decide tomorrow you want out, that is entirely understandable. Just know if you take this task I will be in your debt."

_Indebted to a group of teens._ Somehow, Virgil liked that idea. Finally relaxing into the seat, he wondered what the others were thinking. Would he still be as excited to do Luthor's bidding if he had to do it alone? He'd gotten used to working with them, being among a group.

As they pulled into the parking lot of an efficiency apartment complex, Luthor informed, "Mercy will go in and sign the necessary paperwork. It's best this be the last time we're together in person, though I'll be in touch. And available if you need me."

"Yeah right," Tye shot back. "How do we know there's no cameras inside, or Reach cronies waiting to jump us? You already said you've kept watch on us, so this could be some sort of elaborate trap."

"You have the word of Lex Luthor, and let me tell you, there are not many people to whom I give it." Tye tipped his head and gave him a mirthless look which said he didn't buy it. "Yet, I appreciate your care. You may handle the front desk if you wish, Tye, and choose the room yourself, if that helps set your mind at ease." He pulled out a wad of cash inside a gold-plated money clip, holding it out to them. "Use this as you'd like. I'll cover all your expenses from here on out, so rest easy."

Mercy was opening the car door for them when Tye snatched the money clip from him, his eyes still glowering with distrust. He was the first out the door, intent on doing exactly what Luthor offered. Sam followed, bowing once again to both Luthor and Mercy out of wary gratitude.

"Do take care of yourselves," Lex Luthor warned, his voice suddenly thick with concern. "I want your help, but there is also danger that comes with independence. Especially for you lot, and I think you know the reasons why."

The last in the vehicle, Virgil exchanged a long, foreboding look with Ed before replying, "Yeah, I think we do, thanks."

* * *

><p>The place was nicer than he expected, yet nowhere near the same caliber as Lex Luthor's fully-loaded town car. Still, it was furnished, warm, and—for now—safe. Virgil turned to Mercy Graves and held out his hand for the apartment key. She cupped hers around it and gave him a look that made his blood freeze.<p>

He arched a brow, but her loyalty was dangerously clear. "We get it," he said, though the courage drained from his voice under her stare. "We keep everything on the D.L., and if we get caught our lips are sealed."

The woman had naturally low eyebrows which gave her a permanent glare, but the darkness in her eyes lifted slightly, pleased. She handed him the key, crisply turned about, and shut the door without so much as a farewell.

So Eduardo said sarcastically, "¡Adiós!"

"Seriously, man, that woman is like a robot." Despite himself, he looked out the peephole to make certain she was not in earshot. "They didn't get copies of the key, did they?"

"Absolutely not," Tye said. "I made sure to request only the one."

"Well, at least we got a place to crash. And thank God 'cuz I'm beat."

Virgil strode to the couch and leaped over the back, landing on the not-so-soft cushioned seat. In front of him was the kitchenette, a small island nook, and on his side a bay window. He kicked his feet up onto the scuffed, stained coffee table and sighed.

A self-conscious silence fell over the room, as if they were in a stranger's home unwelcomed. The atmosphere grew sullen, heavy, and it seemed like none of them wanted to keep the previous happenings alive. After a time, Ed tiredly sat down next to Virgil and Sam dropped into the loveseat, crossing her legs underneath herself and massaging her feet; she'd taken her shoes off at the door.

Sensing the circling anticipation, Virgil opened the conversation. "So what do you guys think?"

"I don't like it," Tye spoke up quickly. "That man makes me feel dirty. He's like a used car salesman."

"I got the pitch, too, but I think he's more a flip-flop."

"What does that mean?" asked Ed.

"I think he's true to what he says at the given moment, but he'll change his tune if a new opportunity comes up."

"Yeah, 'cuz we're an investment." Tye sounded angry and Virgil wasn't quite sure why.

"Well, at least you protect your investments."

"So you trust him, Virgil?"

"I dunno. At the moment, I think I do. How 'bout you?"

"Dude, I just lost my best friend tonight. I'm not sure you should be asking me that right now."

_Oh, damn._ Virgil bit his lip, regretting the pry. Tye Longshadow was the only one who knew Blue Beetle as a person; to the rest of them his actions were an introduction. But for Tye, they were a betrayal. Even Lex Luthor made a point to mention Blue Beetle becoming a turncoat, which had to be a slap in the face. Virgil also did not consider they were perhaps lifelong friends, making the matter even more sensitive.

"I'm sorry, man." Tye only shook his head by way of accepting the apology, while avoiding having to talk about it. "So you want out of Luthor's deal?"

"His _team_?" the Mescalero boy mocked. "Hell no, I'm in." That caught Virgil off-guard, and Tye clarified, "I'm not giving up on Jaime, and at the very least I want some retribution. This is something I think we deserve."

Virgil couldn't help but grin at his fiery words; he knew they'd need that brazen attitude. Then Tye looked at him questioningly. "I'm surprised you were the first to accept. Don't you wanna go home?"

"I would love to, but Beetle was right about one thing; it's too dangerous to be around my family right now. In a way, I'm glad your friend found us when he did. If they waited—if Beetle was sent afterwards—we'd all be sitting ducks in Dakota City! And my family might... Nah, I can't do that, I won't."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" They turned to regard Eduardo. "They are all still looking for us. Already, both S.T.A.R. and the Reach sent people after us. They will come again."

"Yeah." Virgil thought back to Luthor's parting words, another warning. "Everyone has it out for us. That's why we gotta stand together and fight." Sensing Asami's detachment and knowing she wanted to be a part of their dynamic, he asked, "Right, Sam?"

She shrugged. But to prove she was paying attention and trying she said boldly, "_Faito_! Tatakaimasu."

The boys gazed at each other, certain of the word. Ed responded with one of his impish side-smirks, saying approvingly, "El espíritu de lucha. Fight, with or without Luthor."

Tye dug the bundle of cash from his pocket and said with dark humor, "Well, for tonight at least, the pizzas are on Lex!"

* * *

><p>"So if we're a team, we need a name."<p>

"Do we?" Ed seemed to ponder more on finishing his umpteenth slice of pizza than Virgil's playful suggestion; finally, with vague disgust, he chucked the crusty remains atop the carry-out box and leaned back. "I thought we were laying low?"

"Besides, that's just stupid." Tye sat on the floor with Sam, using the advertisements in the back of the phonebook to try teaching her basic English sentences. "It's not like we're gonna be busting through walls proclaiming, 'Here I come to save the day'!"

Virgil smirked. "You're not gonna be bustin' off no more roofs, Tye?"

"I hope not."

"C'mon, man, that was pretty cool. I don't know much 'bout that astral projection stuff, but sure was fierce, like magic!"

Tye sniffed, not in mockery but with resolve. "I don't believe in magic."

"Really? Even with all these superheroes around?" Tye shrugged. "What do you call it?"

"Ga'an. Spirits," he answered bluntly. "There's power in everything, it's what connects us to the Spirit World. I guess my meta-gene just allows me to tap into that."

Something in his English made Asami reflect, and she threw in, "Youna Shinto desu ne." She beamed then, finding something in common with the Native American beliefs—and the boy.

Tye couldn't stop the blush rising to his cheeks, so to fend off the gratifying remark he said, "I dunno too much about it; you'd have to ask my grandfather."

"No como es brujo?" asked Ed.

"Not me, dude. But now that my eyes have changed color, everyone's gonna think I _am_ some sort of brujo Medicine Man."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Although Tye shook his head, he added rather sorely, "I was expected to run for Tribal Council someday. Technically, I was a shoe-in with the Elders 'cuz of my father." He said in Ed's direction: "You might know what that feels like?"

Eduardo Jr.'s countenance fell sullenly in agreement, and Virgil queried, "And you don't wanna?"

"I don't care enough," Tye replied.

"Yet you're worried about your eye color?"

"I—" The boy broke off, knowing anything he said would come off like a childish excuse. Instead, he sighed in resignation. "I feel like I've always been fighting something or someone, you know? Apache survival of the fittest, I guess. Grandpa said I stopped at a crossroads and never found _my_ path. Whatever."

The burden and lost emotions came down heavily upon his silence, so Ed turned it back around to the start, to Virgil's original dialogue. "Maybe we should call you _Apache Chief_ then?" He grinned with good-humored wickedness.

Tye smiled back. "Shut it, _El Dorado_."

Now Ed laughed. "Ah hermano, I would not worry about your tribe. We're not magical superheroes. Look at my Dad. It's all science with him, and I'm no better than a Zeta tube."

Catching his underlying hurt tone, Virgil said, "But _you _know you're better, right, bro? You totally took control over it when you teleported _with_ your old man. Which, by the way, was heroic, straight up."

Ed's face went from stunned gratitude, to embarrassed pride. He muttered something too quickly in Spanish, then renounced, "You say, out of the blue. I had to do it, you know?"

"And that's how you spot a superhero, if you ask me. It's not 'bout powers or science; it's about _doin'_."

Tye grinned and suggested, "Oh, okay. So I guess you don't want a codename anymore?"

"Of course I do. But I want a _good one_, 'cuz I'm keepin' mine forever."

"Fine, but please don't call me Apache Chief on the streets."

"What about Sam?"

The Japanese girl glanced up from the phonebook with her eyebrows raised. She shrugged, waiting for something more understandable. Suddenly, Eduardo cried, "Samurai!" And his eyes glittered at the foreign concept, idolizing the imagery.

Sam seemed to shrink from the word, and her eyes became unfathomable, like she was gazing at something from the past—something altogether unhappy. She sadly shook her head, countering, "Ronin."

There was something pitiful in her manner, and the boys shared in her sense of unease and despair, all thinking back again. Sam dropped her head almost shamefully. Until Tye laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his voice encouraging. "Yeah, I guess we're all outsiders now."

"But we're in it together," added Virgil, giving her a strong nod.

"Sou," Sam said, her cheerfulness returning. "_Famiri_."

"Family, exactly. And I think it's time these kids hit the hay."

"Nani?"

Even Ed said, "Idioms, difícil man."

"Sorry." Virgil chuckled. "I meant we should try to sleep."

"Good idea," Tye said, stretching his arms above his head. "There's two bedrooms and only two beds." He gave a frank look to Virgil and Ed. "Boys dorm?"

"Shouldn't someone keep watch?" Eduardo asked, and by his expression they knew he was hung up on the aliens and being hunted.

"I think it's safe tonight," answered Virgil. "We haven't been here long."

"Still, I'll sleep out here, if that's okay?"

"Sure, bro." Tye escorted Sam towards her solo room, but Virgil held back for a moment; Eduardo's face said he had more to ask. "Ed?"

Rising to his feet, the little Latin American boy asked shyly, "My Dad... was he...?"

Virgil's temperament softened, finally getting his unrest. "Sam got him out."

Before she closed the bedroom door, Ed called for her attention. "Sam? Um, I don't know if you'll understand but: thank you for saving my Dad."

He talked slowly and clearly, and Sam's eyes moved back and forth as she tried hard to register each word against what Tye had taught her. She nodded carefully, and then smiled. "Dorado-hakase wa Edu-kun no otousan desu, hai."

"He is okay, right?"

A pause. "Un, okay. Otousan ga zenin buji de." She nodded. "Dad is okay."

Ed smiled, one of the brightest any of the Runaways had seen on his face. "Thank you."

"No _sankyu_."

He attempted to hide a breathy laugh, and even Virgil couldn't stand how adorable her attempts were, grinning to himself. Ed returned her nod then, and as he started back to the couch Asami said, "Edu-kun. Shimpaishite, otousan ga... for you."

Eduardo lingered on her phrase, but there was something heartfelt in the Japanese sentence, a connection between _otousan _and Dad, that made him tip his head again in appreciation.

"Oyasumi, _famiri_." Sam dipped her body slightly towards each of them, and they automatically replied in turn, "Good night."

She closed the door softly, and Virgil watched Ed sit and remove his scarf; then he stared at his hands for a long while, and Virgil could only imagine what deep thoughts or regrets were plaguing Eduardo Jr..

As he followed Tye into their shared bedroom, Virgil whispered, "Maybe we should have left Ed back at S.T.A.R.. I feel bad for that kid."

"Dude," said Tye emphatically, "his Dad signed him up for the testing. If we left him there, they'd never resolve anything, not in that place."

"I guess you're right. Anyway, we've drawn our battle lines and until the fight is over, I think this _famiri_ is our best hope for survival."

"Damn straight."

Suddenly, it hit him, and it was too silly not to share. Virgil dramatically snapped his fingers. "The Super Friends!"

"Oh geez, man, you're killing me! Just give it a rest already!"

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Circus Sideshow" by Hollow Point Heroes. No copyright infringement is intended, with all rights reserved.


	2. There's No Escape from What I Want

**II. **

**"Running and running 'til I hit the edge.  
>From this day on I liberate myself."<strong>

Tye was used to what he called "hardcore camping", having been raised to appreciate his heritage and spending much of his childhood in the wilderness and El Paso pueblos; so he freely chose to sleep on the floor, giving Virgil the single bed. Neither of them got any actual sleep, and he heard the electrokinetic boy toss, turn, and sigh until five in the morning. And now Tye felt too awake to even bother forcing rest.

He lay on his side, holding the dog tags he always wore up to the approaching light of dawn. Not that he needed the hazy new sun to read by; the identification was too personal not to know by heart. His father had been in the U.S. Army, proud to bring his people's name to the good of the nation. And Tye was only three years old when the Iraq War broke out. His father had been deployed after the initial invasion force a few years later, during the worst of the fighting. He didn't come home alive.

Tye had been wearing the tags so long, sometimes he forgot _why_. A tribute of honor? Pride and adoration? Or simply a reminder of his broken heart? But now, looking back at everything, he felt a growing guilt. He wished he could feel that same sense of duty and conviction he remembered so well about his Dad, but after losing him he couldn't bring himself to care about the Apache tribe and culture as diligently. Knowing Jaime helped, someone who had his back, and goofing off with his buddy was perhaps more steadfast and happy to him now than his childhood with his real family.

But it wasn't just guilt over his heritage and calling. He felt shame for abandoning his mother. He had a resentment towards her after Maurice came into their lives; not so much that she wanted another man after losing his father, but that she allowed it to be _that man_. Tye _hated_ Maurice, and it spilled over to his mother. Especially knowing she took some of the abuse herself. He didn't understand her delusional weakness which allowed Maurice to stay. He tried protecting her when he could with his "punk-ass smart-mouth", but she wouldn't do the same for him—he had more fire and loathing anyway, while she wanted to stay on Maurice's good side. So she let him bully her son, until he'd had _enough_.

He was sick of it, and he ran. Leaving his mother behind.

And that, he knew, shamed his father more than anything else.

Drawing in a deep, remorseful breath, Tye eased it out so as not to disturb Virgil. Dropping the tags, he sat up and stretched his neck, thinking to himself, _What the hell ever._ Right now he couldn't worry about his father's memory, his mother and Maurice, or his Grandpa's tribal council of Elders.

He got up and, as quietly as he could, showered, letting the water—boiling hot pin-prinks—wash away those lingering mental scars. Yet as he stood under the rain, fresh scars came to surface. _Damn the Reach._ Not only did they take away his shot at freedom, his second chance, they turned his life upside-down, while turning his best friend against him. Could it all be any more unfair?

A thought sprung to mind, and he loitered wickedly on it. Perhaps he _should_ go home? Go home, give his mother a bus ticket, and wait for Blue Beetle to come for him. And hopefully the Reach's azure agent would blast that asshole Maurice into whatever afterlife might exist outside his Apache religion. Tye grinned despite himself.

But then, he knew he couldn't run away from his new family. Virgil, Ed, Sam—they were all in this mess together, and he knew he now had the Spirit to protect them, a force which could grow to a reckoning size and mete out justice. _His_ brand of justice. He finally understood the concepts of nobility and loyalty which his father had long ago tried to teach him, and it was because of his friends who needed him now.

And for the friend he refused to let go. He could save Jaime, he thought—if he could learn to control his meta-power.

* * *

><p>Bare-chested, a towel around his shoulders, Tye softly walked into the main living quarters. It was still dark but the sun was breaking, faint ribbons of light coming through the blinds over the bay window. Drying his long hair, Tye went to the window to look out, wondering on the neighborhood, when he heard Eduardo shift on the couch behind him.<p>

"Sorry, dude." He whispered for the benefit of the rest of the household. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Sitting up, Ed shook his head as he rubbed his eyes with a weary, stiff groan. "I could not sleep anyway."

Tye sat down next to the Argentinean boy, and they both tolerated a long silence as Ed rotated his shoulders, coming out of his aching slumber. It was a clear morning ahead, the dim light casting a blue-gray aura over the room. The aroma of cold pizza was a little nauseating so early, but neither wanted to bother about cleaning up. So the hush continued, like a calm before the storm.

After a time, Tye asked, "How do you feel?"

Ed gave a flippant shrug. "Like I could use a good cup of coffee." There was another long, muted moment, but suddenly Ed turned his face away and whispered openly, "I'm—uh, I'm a little scared."

Stunned by his up-front sincerity, Tye shared in some of Virgil's sympathy. But if he had to be honest, with everything transpiring all at once, it was a frightening scenario they found themselves in. He tried to sound brave and consoling, but Tye heard the waver in his own voice. "I know. I am, too."

Ed looked at him, side-long, curious if he were being mocked or humored. But seeing the pained memories still lingering in Tye's eyes, the hurt glower still on his face, Ed said, "I've been fighting my whole life, too, hermano. I've felt alone for so long. And then..."

"We're just stressed. Who'd have thought running away from something bad would only escalate so insanely? Shit, I thought it would get better."

"Sí. I feel like I finally found my Dad, you know? But now all he sees is this stupid Zeta power. I do not want _that_ to be the only connection we have. I might as well stay with the aliens then."

Tye fisted his shoulder compassionately. "Don't say that, man. We're not aliens."

"Not yet. What did Luthor say? _Invasion_. And they sent your friend to retrieve us, like property. Blue Beetle even said they put that bug-thing on him to control him. What if they—" He struggled to find the English word. "—_implanted _something like that in us, too?"

"I think they would have activated it by now."

"Unless it's to track us?"

"Like a G.P.S. or barcode or something?" Tye started to ponder on his conspiracy theories, then shook himself. "Dude, you're making me paranoid. Anyway, we're property of Lex Luthor now, and he's on the inside of their mother ship. If they put some sort of tech in us, he'd know."

"If you trust him."

"I trust Virgil, and he does. I'm gonna let that be good enough."

Eduardo inhaled deeply, slowly, as if drawing courage from that new breath of air. Then he said, "Sí, as Virgil said, we just _do_."

"We do _what's right_," corrected Tye, and Ed's head bobbed in agreement. Putting a smile on his face, Tye took his damp towel and slapped Ed with it. "Go take a warm shower, dude. It'll make you feel better."

Ed gave a disgusted frown to the towel, plucking it off his dry clothes. He said, sounding more upbeat, "I doubt it, but at least it'll make me feel more awake."

Watching him go, Tye couldn't help but feel they were all haunted by that world under the water, the cold Reach ship and the inhuman scientists. And rightly so. Theories and propositions aside, he knew quite well as Lex Luthor; the Reach was still looking for them. They weren't just past-tense haunted, they were presently being hunted.

Something was coming. He could feel it.

* * *

><p>It was almost 8 a.m. when the knock sounded on the door. Tye checked before opening it, still none too thrilled to invite Mercy Graves back in. She was dressed casually, in a blouse and jeans, and yet she managed to keep her threatening, intimidating demeanor. Virgil couldn't help but feel sorry for any children she might have. <em>One hardass soccer Mom<em>, he thought.

She brought in two padded cases, one with a laptop computer, and the other containing communication tech devices, the phones Lex Luthor had promised them. Then she left momentarily, coming back with grocery bags.

"Aww, how thoughtful of you," Tye joked, earning him a reproachful frown.

She dropped the provisions onto the kitchenette island, only bothering to unpack one bag. She withdrew several books and slammed them into Eduardo's hands so hard he grunted, taking it against the chest and forced a step back. He looked down on language learning guides.

"My English is fine," he said, offended.

They matched glares, but Asami instantly stepped in, taking the books from him and bowing to Mercy. "_Sankyu_," she intoned before grabbing Ed's arm and pulling him away from any possible altercation.

Seeming quite unhappy with her current errands, Mercy removed the laptop, opened the screen, and powered it on. She spun it around to face the teenagers, and they saw the two-way camera clipped to the top. With that she turned away, rather militaristic, and left them alone again.

And suddenly Luthor's voice said via the computer screen: "I hope you slept reasonably well?"

"Sure," said Virgil, as they all gathered around the coffee table. "We're also still in. Do you have anything for us to do?"

"Nothing concrete. However, there is a new shipment of Reach soft drinks being released today, and I figured you might want to give them some... bad publicity."

"Sodas?" Tye ridiculed. "That's your idea of a mission?"

"It has to start somewhere, my dear boy."

"Why don't you just make a brand new, anti-Reach drink and focus your advertisements on that one instead. They do it all the time in commercials, following trends and sales."

"Well, someone has a bright future in marketing." Tye stuck his lips out in an affronted pout. "It's not so much about the drink itself, though."

"Bad publicity?" Virgil stroked his lower lip thoughtfully. "You want us to rally the masses against the Reach, don't you?"

"Indeed."

"But that will put us in the spotlight," reminded Ed.

"It depends on how you handle the situation. It's true you need a rabble to rouse, but it doesn't have to be a public rally. I suspect kids these days know more subversive methods of persuasion."

Tye asked, "What do you think bashing a drink will do?"

"Scare humanity into becoming more observant, I hope. One step at a time."

"For humanity, or for Luthor?" The Runaways turned to Tye with a sort of stunned caution. "Sounds like you want to create an army against the Reach."

"Perhaps that is what this world needs. Turn people against the Reach in order to save themselves. Much like you have done. Am I wrong?"

Tye's mouth set into a firm line, and Virgil suspected his grimace was due to Jaime Reyes. Despite the betrayal, he knew Tye wouldn't want anything tragic to happen to the Blue Beetle—especially not by his hand, if it came down to Luthor's team leading a civilian army. But Tye finally conceded to the facts. "I suppose not."

"Then I trust you four to do the right thing."

* * *

><p>They spent the morning on reconnaissance, getting to know the local neighborhood and, by all accounts, hanging out. Despite their freedom, there was a discontent among the four teens, not certain of how to handle their appointed task. Loitering outside a laundromat within a block of modest row-homes, Tye sat down on the stairs and finally asked, "So?"<p>

Asami and Eduardo hung off the stairwell railing, inside the mouth of the alley behind the buildings. Ed shrugged noncommittally, turning to Virgil, who was watching everything with a hawk-like awareness from the sidewalk. Now he gave that clear-eyed gaze to them.

"Why do you all look at me?"

"Well, you seem to be the most excited to work with Luthor," replied Tye, leaning back against the stairs. Sam sat down next to him.

"Sí, I guess we just think of you as the leader. Any ideas on this bad marketing scheme?"

"No idea."

They all groaned.

"No idea?" Sam mimicked, her face showing a vague worry.

"But," Virgil threw in, "I'll take the lead." He pointed down the block, where a hole-in-the-wall convenience store sat.

Outside the general, quick-grab store, a mother was getting drinks from the vending machines for her two young children; Virgil was reminded of his thought about Mercy Graves. He noticed her choose all from the Reach brand machine, and a sense of rebellion bubbled up inside him. They would change her mind, for sure.

"Come with me, Ed, and keep followin' my lead." Eduardo's eyebrows tweaked upwards, curious and eager. Sam and Tye exchanged bewildered glances. "And you two, sit back and enjoy the show."

As both boys crossed the intersection and approached the convenience store, Virgil saw the kids begin to pop the stay-tabs on the chilled aluminum containers, and he instantly reacted, like any concerned citizen ought to.

"Oh whoa, that's not a good idea!" The feigned panic in his voice was loud.

"Excuse me?" the mother asked warily, stepping in front of her children.

"I don't think you should be givin' Reach to your kids," he explained, putting a fearful, hound-dog look on his face. It wasn't a difficult stretch given their past circumstances, what happened to them. "There's somethin' in those drinks... it's _alien_!"

The woman gazed down at the can of peach-flavored beverage in her hand, a look of confusion and vague distrust on her face. "What do you mean? We always drink this."

"So did my friend here, and he's come down _sick_!" He elbowed Ed slightly and, picking up on the cue, Eduardo gave a hacking cough, dropping his head as if abruptly winded; but Virgil could sense him fighting a grin. "Doctors don't know what's wrong with him, but they said it was likely all those drinks. Said somethin' built up inside him."

Ed shuttered, and began coughing in fits. "He gets like this all the time, breathless and in pain. And nobody can help. The worst is when—"

Suddenly, Ed offered a deep, rasping cough from his chest—and teleported.

There was a quick commotion, and in the unrest Virgil saw his friend reappear in the alleyway behind Tye and Sam. Yet the thoroughly shocked woman only saw the fading golden light where a teenager once stood. She gave a wordless cry, dropping her can as if it had come alive and bitten her.

"That," Virgil said, sighing loudly and hopelessly. "See? That happens when he gets _real_ sick. It ain't normal, the way kids are fallin' ill off Reach."

"W-wha—?" The woman began fanning herself. "What happened—?"

Virgil shrugged sadly. "Nobody knows. Not his family, no doctors, no human soul on earth. I just know he was fine until those aliens arrived. God, I hope he comes back this time..."

Her eyes widened in horror and she quickly took the soda cans from her children, promptly throwing them into the nearby trash bin and herding her family away in a flutter. She nodded to Virgil, her lips working as if to thank him, but the fear was too great and she was rendered speechless. Even better, a few other customers from the store were watching. And now they were whispering to themselves, their own looks flabbergasted and alarmed.

It was too perfect! Virgil fought hard to hold back a smirk, stuffing his hands into his pockets and kicking the sidewalk, pretending to be distraught. After a dramatic moment, he slowly walked away, heading back to where the others waited. As he drew near, he saw Eduardo hidden in the shadows of the alley, his hands over his mouth to hold in bursts of laughter.

"_There_ you are, man," Virgil asserted, replaying his role. Then he found it too difficult to speak without ripples of laughter overtaking each word. "I'm so glad you're okay!" He lost it, diving into the shadows with Ed.

"Hacerse la mosquita muerta," Ed wheezed out through attempts to control his giggles. "I don't know how you did it, but that was awesome!"

Wiping his eyes, Virgil said, "And fine performance yourself, Mr. Dorado." He held up his arm to Ed, palm out. "Up high, bro." Eduardo's gloved hand met his in a high-five, their moods finally lightened, almost carefree.

Tye watched them with a stern expression, and when they seemed to settle down, he shook his head and said, "Beam me up, Scotty."

The two boys fell back into laughing. Even though he couldn't breathe and his sides hurt, Virgil was happy to relinquish the low spirits, suspicions, and foreboding darkness for the ridiculous display. He had gone into the initial idea with proud purpose, still keen on the fact they would dole out their own justice against the invading alien-aggressors. But now, it felt like they were normal teenage boys and they'd just played the best prank of their lives! And they needed that.

But then he heard Tye say, "Are you okay, Sam?"

Standing outside the alley, Sam watched the whole thing with a quizzical sorrow. At Tye's urging, she said, "Children scared." And she looked upset about what they'd done. "Kedo iji warukunakatta no?"

Ed cleared his throat, her remark sobering him, and Virgil lost his smile. "Yeah, I feel bad about them little kids, too," he said. "But it would be more frightenin' to be poked and prodded by alien scientists. Like Luthor said, we gotta scare the folks into openin' their eyes."

"It had to start somewhere," Ed said with conviction.

"By tonight that soccer mom will'a phoned up all her parent friends, and the rumors will fly. To me, that's job well done."

"Still, dude," said Tye, "we can't stand guard outside every damn store, freaking people out."

"I know. We need other options."

Tye folded his arms over his chest. "If we wait until tonight, I think we could do much more _damage_."

Virgil was pretty sure he knew what Apache Chief had in mind. And he was pretty sure he'd enjoy it, as well.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "No Escape" by coldrain. No infringement is intended and all rights reserved.


	3. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

**III. **

**"Then the traveler in the dark,  
>thanks you for your little spark.<br>He could not see which way to go,  
>if you did not twinkle so..."<strong>

"You want us to split up?"

They were back outside the same convenience store, at an hour so late it was barricaded with a barred gate and weighted padlock. The neighborhood was obviously used to seeing some devious kids because graffiti decorated the metal grates; the extra locks undoubtedly the response to break-ins. Even the overhead light outside the threshold boasted a broken bulb, another sign of hard times.

Sensing the apprehension in his tone, Tye looked at Eduardo with a comforting grin. "Yeah. We'll cover more ground that way, make it look like more than a random gang occurrence."

"No offense, man," Virgil said, "but shouldn't someone stay with you, just in case? I mean, you know..."

"Worried about me losing control?" Virgil gave him a sheepish look. Tye held his hands in front of his eyes in vexation. Then he fisted them with a little anger, but his response was undefeated. "You're probably right. It would be safer, just in case. If the Spirit gets too large, I might actually do more damage than I want."

"Don't worry, I'll stay with ya, keep an eye on the Big Guy," Virgil said as he hefted a nearby manhole cover with his electricity. "And Ed and Sam can keep an eye out for the cops. Ya'all still got the phones from Luthor?" There was a round of nods. "Cool, so be sure to _use them_ if somethin' comes up. Remember, we're in this together."

As Virgil hopped aboard his latest flying saucer, Ed said to Sam, "Come on, hermana. Let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up."

* * *

><p>Tye stared at the ground, letting his mind go blank as he focused on the cement of the sidewalk: the broken bits of gravel, each running seam, the course stone worn from decades of traffic. A few flecks shimmered in the soft moonlight, imperfect against the callous concrete. That's what he focused on, the dim sparks; they reminded him of himself, one waning light against the world.<p>

His breathing slowed to a rhythmically deep length, and he closed his eyes. Almost instantaneously, he slipped into the comfortable limbo between slumber and the cold, wakeful space. Like a languid moment of Zen, but more powerful than any yogi's meditation, he felt the rise of the spiritual glow within him, the astral projection reaching from the human confines towards the heavens.

With the absolute calm came the drifting fog which Tye recalled, yet always feared. It was a swirling, thick mist that coiled around him, engulfing him, wanting him to do nothing more than let go and fall into its folds. It wanted him to sleep. But he couldn't fall to sleep—because that's when he lost control.

Tye hated the feeling of having no control, spinning haphazardly and made to dance to the music someone else created. It overwhelmed him, that hatred, being at the mercy of another. He knew he had to fight it...

While at the same time, he knew hatred and fighting his power wasn't the answer. He had to work in tandem with the Spirit. It was about harmony and acceptance, focus and resilience, which would not only connect him to the Spirit World, but also allow him to adapt to it, freely.

_Don't fight,_ he told himself frankly. _Don't lose control, and don't give in to the fog. _

Breathe with me, the golden being seemed to urge him. Like fire builds with air, the Spirit could only grow if he allowed it the breathing room. They could work together, as they did before. All Tye had to do was be one with it, with himself. _Just be._

* * *

><p>It seemed to be going okay; he looked pretty relaxed. As soon as Tye's eyes closed a golden aura bloomed from his center, outlining his body. Virgil licked his lips, not wanting to feel nervous but unable to control the wave of anxiety washing over him. <em>Here we go. Time to cross our fingers!<em>

And the astral form rose from the Apache teen, a smooth projection of human anatomy in all its brilliant, unabashed strength. It spread like a stain, and now Virgil bit his lip as he watched it continue to rise up.

"C'mon, man," he said, unaware the thought came aloud. "You got this..."

There was no rebellious urgency from the Spirit, and it merely continued to take greater shape, without taking any action. Suddenly, as if inspired by his words, Tye seemed to quickly call it back. The golden form shrank down—and a good thing, too; it was almost over the town rooftops. That kind of bright light surely would have alerted somebody!

Virgil let out a breath he'd been holding, the anticipation draining away to a supportive pride. _Oh snap! He just owned the Big Man._ S.T.A.R. be damned, they didn't need anything to explain their meta-powers, or anybody to show them how to conquer them. The Runaways were for sure in control of their own fate now.

And he watched as Tye asked the Spirit to reach out and take hold of the Reach soda machine. The form grew again, but only enough to crush the entire vending device like worthless scrap. Virgil winced at the sharp moan of metal being bent against its will, the hollow, grinding scream of the mechanics inside breaking apart. Cans began exploding, and Virgil actually laughed at the foamy, sweetened spray showering down. In seconds, it was a twisted, useless hunk of junk.

"Alright, Tye!" Virgil cheered. He knew full well this little rundown store wouldn't bother to afford another one of the Reach's deceptions. Not after today.

Tye sank to the ground as the Spirit retreated, its mission completed. Virgil started towards the other boy, but he wasn't asleep or unfocused. Apache Chief stood, somewhat tiredly, and gazed at the crippled machine. Then he made a disgusted sound.

"Yuck, I'm all sticky!"

Virgil laughed again, clapping him on the back. "That's what happens when ya make it rain soda!" Tye's nose crinkled as he examined his clothing from the pools of Peachy Strawberry-Mango grossness, the fizzing sounds dying. "Never fear, man. There's the wash-n-dry down the way, remember?"

* * *

><p>Asami followed closely behind Eduardo, who seemed to have more direction than she did. Which wasn't hard considering his English was fluent against her struggling, beginner-level. How she wished she'd paid more attention to her language classes back in Japan! She didn't expect to ever be able to finance a study abroad, let alone vacation or live in America, so—rather hopelessly—she never took the studies seriously. Enough to earn passing marks, lest she invoke her father's condescending wrath, but never enough to really understand the grammar, not even conversationally.<p>

In retrospect, she felt ashamed of her ignorance. Even when she met Eduardo, she thought maybe he was from Italy or thereabouts in the Mediterranean; those languages all sounded the same to her. However, as she listened more, got to know the differences, his Spanish, heavy on the vowel-endings, seemed easier to mimic than the blunt English. And then she discovered Tye also knew Spanish...

Blushing now despite herself, Asami knew learning Spanish would have to come later. Maybe Tye would teach her someday? Anyway, it was English that would help her adapt quicker, which she'd need in order to survive, in case she ended up betrayed and all alone.

Again.

_Iie! _she scolded herself. She must not think like that. These boys were nothing but supportive and up-front with her, the rag-tag lot always willing to include her, listen to her, regardless of her inability to converse in their own tongue. They were trying, adapting, just as she was. Not many people offered her that kind of friendship. Looking back, everyone had only given her the common courtesy expected at face-value; with them it felt more _real_. They had a sincerity she appreciated, and they were all fighting the same enemies. She was no longer fighting alone.

In fact, she found her fighting spirit _rekindled_ thanks to them. Before—after what she'd done—she'd given up so completely that she not only ran away from the loathing and disappointment of her family and friends in Saza-chō, but had been contemplating ending it all along the banks of the port at Sasebo-shi. She was never sure if she would've done it, but that's where the hands of the Reach kidnapped her.

And now she'd never look back again.

She had a new family, and she believed in them. It was enough to build her strength, her resolve to go on. Indeed, it was rather like an adventure story, and Asami found herself lighter and happier than she ever remembered before, even during the most trying of circumstances with the superheroes. There was hope in this place, living as meta-human "Sam".

Smiling, Asami came free of her thoughts when Eduardo stopped short. He was intently gazing across the street, and suddenly a grin crossed his face. He motioned with his head to one of the shops, and she followed him to the adjacent sidewalk. He went up to the large display window, cupping his hands around the glass to peer inside. She mimicked him; it was an automatic reaction since she had no clue what Ed was thinking.

It was a skater shop, full of relevant sporting goods, accessories, and clothing apparel. Asami wondered what he was window-shopping for, herself eyeballing the street fashion and punk lifestyle wares. Ed dipped and slunk his body, searching out the entire store, and when she saw his gaze directed towards each corner, she knew he was looking for security cameras. Just when she realized there were none, Eduardo teleported inside without warning.

It startled her, and Asami immediately pulled back and surveyed the streets. Clearly, her friend was about to steal something, and the last thing they needed was to get caught. Would Lex Luthor even bail them out of jail? But her nerves calmed at the sight of the dead road and all the black windows staring back from the surrounding buildings. It was well after 2 a.m. and nobody was awake on this weekday night.

And then Ed teleported back outside, his arms wrapped around three skateboards and a trio of helmets hanging from his hands. He was sunny, as if his unwanted power had proven useful again.

"I figured, Virgil has his electrified disc, so we should have something to make the rounds quicker, too."

Picturing Virgil in her mind against the number of skateboards, it took her only a moment to comprehend. However, she wasn't as thrilled with his methods. She withdrew her portion of the cash supplied to them by Luthor and slid more than half of it under the closed gate; hopefully the opening manager would find it, before discovering the stolen goods. For her, it helped lessen the impact of their wrongdoing and her sense of guilt. When she straightened back up she found Ed smiling at her, bemused.

"Keeping me honest, huh?"

She nodded, knowing the word "honest" at least. When he winked at her, she returned his smile, pleased he wasn't cross about their difference in opinions.

Setting the armload down, Ed held out one of the helmets to her. "Have you ever been on a skateboard before?"

Asami took the offering, setting the hard-cap on her head. As she fastened the straps, she shook that now-protected head. "No. _Rouraa sukeeto_."

"Roller skates? Same principles, I guess." He gently kicked one of the boards to her, and she easily stopped its uneven glide with a foot atop the deck. "You just need balance, really."

With an encouraging grin, Ed gave a flip of his hand as if to say "try". So Asami stepped aboard and shifted her weight, getting a feel for the plank-on-wheels beneath her. It wouldn't quite be like rolling on the inline skates she'd had, but she imagined more like how surfers and snowboarders moved. _Could be cool,_ she thought to herself. Just push off and go.

Except it didn't happen like that. She pushed with her left foot, felt the impulsive lurch, and subconsciously her right nailed the board down out of a wary self-preservation. The herky-jerky motion jarred her unprepared body backwards. The skateboard did in fact go, but it left her behind in an ungraceful landing.

"¡Ay! " Eduardo tried to save her before she fell, to no avail; he held onto her arm as she crashed, fortunately not going down with her. "No te preocupes—it's okay. First ride is always a little, uh, bumpy."

"Mou, shimatta," she cursed, though a giggle bubbled up, along with the English phrase she adopted. "No idea."

Ed laughed, and when she looked him in the eye she saw nothing but fond good-humor; he squeezed the arm he held reassuringly. It lightened her spirits even further. Yet still, Asami was grateful Tye hadn't been there to see her foolishly fall on her butt. Not willing to let the experience get her down, she drummed the helmet with both hands and proclaimed, "Yosh! Try! Futatabi dekimasu."

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

* * *

><p>"I think you've got the hang of it," Virgil was saying when Tye dropped from the residual force of his Spirit.<p>

Catching himself in a kneeling position, Tye blinked back the sudden weariness; his body felt incredibly heavy, and every time he used his meta-power the fog was more difficult to avoid. "I guess, but it's getting harder to stay awake."

"Not surprisin', bro. It's after, like, three in the mornin'."

Standing among the wreckage of what used to be a billboard advertising the Reach Ambassador would be live on national radio, Tye looked out towards the highway in the distance. They were on the rooftop of some corporate building, having travelled a good while outside the neighborhood via Virgil's electric-powered manhole cover. Now he wondered if they could even find their way home. Plus, they hadn't spoken to Ed and Sam since they parted ways.

Rubbing his eyes, he said, "We should probably start heading back."

"Yeah, after one last punch."

Virgil caught his eye and pointed towards a nearby shopping center. The anchor building on the end was a massive grocery store, and from their angle at the rear entrance, they saw a tractor trailer bearing the Reach logo at the loading dock, delivering the new shipment of drinks. Virgil gave him a slanted, wicked grin, and with a resigned sigh, Tye agreed.

Lifting the current on the disc, Virgil sailed them down from the high-rise above, and Tye was thankful he allowed him much of the space aboard. It was fascinating how Virgil could maintain a static cling to the magnetized metal, and as long as he held his focus, he'd never fall off. Which couldn't be said for Tye; even though he wasn't afraid of heights, he was still cautious.

As they drew near the parking lot, Virgil set the disc on the ground and absorbed the electricity. It was better _not_ to go in guns blazing, as it were, since they needed to avoid exposure. Keeping low, they ran stealthily towards the market's docking bay. They pressed close to the platform, creeping to the truck. It was pulled with the trailer towards the receiving warehouse, but no conveyer belts had been prepped, and the tractor was still parked at a distance, doors sealed. Daring to dart into the open, the boys made their way to the driver's compartment. It was empty, and the door was unlocked.

Virgil climbed inside while Tye kept a close watch on the shipment area. It was quiet, the dark night outside causing the interior neon lights to appear blindly pure and white. Squinting against the radiance of the store, Tye saw not a soul stir.

Jumping down, Virgil whispered, "Still fully stocked. Driver must be inside with paperwork or somethin'."

"So let's do this and go."

"Don't worry, man. I got it this time."

Before he could say anything, Virgil opened his arms wide and lifted a strong pulse of his power. The electrical charge he created struck the earth at his feet, making the pavement quake a bit. Tye stepped back uneasily, noticing the fine wisps of his long hair stand straight out, pulled by the static of the electrokinesis. Virgil was giving it all he had.

A crackling aura encircled him, tendrils of electricity building and building, snapping outward like serpents seeking prey. Feeling the energy sufficient, Virgil finally pushed his arms out towards the trailer hitch, sending those blue, hissing serpents to attack the haul. The entire vehicle lurched as it was struck by lightning, and Tye hastily ducked, stunned.

"Easy," he warned. He knew Virgil could not hear him over the shrill of his electricity, the groaning of the metal.

And then the tires suddenly exploded, the insulated rubber melted and flung off the heated steel hubs. Tye instinctively grabbed Virgil, gaining a momentary shock for his concern; he hauled him away, fearing his friend may have lost control over the amount of electric charges. Even Virgil looked alarmed, his brows drawn low and his mouth set in a tight grimace.

As they retreated, the large stock of sodas inside began popping madly; they could hear the wail of the drinks as each beverage slammed into the hollow trailer. When the entire pallets went, the carbonated impact dented the doors, almost as if trying to pry them open and escape. The job done, Virgil released his energy, but his expression never altered.

"That didn't feel right, man." Retrieving his manhole cover with caution, Virgil shook his head as if scolding his senses, his power. "I dunno—"

Tye raised a hand to shush him. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a diminutive form.

And then he heard the thrumming inhalation, a vacant and monstrous breath of air, that of something ready to scream. It was very metallic sounding. Suddenly he realized—

"The gas tank!"

"Shit!"

Even as they bolted for the yard lining the parking lot, they saw light from a fire burning, heard the dinning sounds echoed brutally from the truck's body and inner workings. The diesel ignited.

And the truck exploded.

Despite the ground covered, Tye felt the force of the explosion slam into his back. He stumbled but didn't fall. Both boys left the neatly trimmed mall yard and plunged into the thicket of trees and rising hills, leading them to the surrounding homes. When they reached the chain-link fence separating the shopping domain from the private neighborhood, they were goaded to stop and face what happened. Virgil dropped from the air, his ride crashing into the soft dirt and dead leaves with a sad thud. Virgil himself collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

"Oh God, man," he moaned. "I didn't mean—I never felt the heat..." He lifted his face away, his eyes confused and shocked, and stared with an acute abhorrence at his hands. A flicker of blue passed between them, and he gave the electricity an accusing glare.

His fingers laced between the links of the fence, Tye leaned towards the edge of the slope they were stalled on. He was reliving the sounds, the sheer force, of that explosion. It rocked his senses, and he heard himself panting loudly; even Virgil's self-loathing was lost in the din of what happened. But one thing stood out in his memories: the motion before the fire, like someone was approaching the other side of the delivery truck. Tye began searching the parking lot below, sweeping his eyes rather frantically over the paved expanse...

The truck was burning, but the fire point was already reached and the flames were small, having little to feed on from the metal ruins. Debris littered the perimeter like shrapnel, and the smell of the fuel burning darkened the cold night air. Thankfully, the buildings themselves were unharmed, and people from within were combating the devastation with industrial fire extinguishers. Though he sighed with relief, Tye knew none of those people were who he saw before.

He half walked, half slid down the length of the fence, still searching. He neared the front of the plaza, whereupon sat the retail labels of the strip and an announcement billboard. And he saw...

Virgil was saying tearfully, "I could'a _killed_ someone... And here I was worried about _your _control..."

"Dude." Tye's voice was flat, a sense of foreboding thick on his tone. "It wasn't your fault. Unless you brought extra fuel and a flame-thrower."

Virgil joined his side; Tye stared ahead with the weight of the view crushing down around him, a feeling worse than the demolished truck. He was still aware of Virgil's gasp. "What the...?"

The open lot was afire, but it was not set like a bonfire or explosion. It seemed at first like a patchwork, lines intermingling and scrolling across the empty ground. But from their height they could plainly see it was not a random mess. It was a scripted message, and even though the angle made it difficult to read the flaming, smoking sentence, both boys could distinguish the words:

FIGHT THE REACH

Just then Virgil grunted sharply, grabbing Tye's arm and pointing. The same message had been spelled out on the entrance billboard, ready and waiting for the morning shoppers to view the vehement greeting—the declaration of war against the Reach.

This was _bad_! He didn't like the implications, not at all. Tye withdrew his phone to call the others...

* * *

><p>Eduardo watched Asami leap off her board with the assistance of her power, propelling down with exuberant, and unnatural, strength atop the newspaper rack. Under the weight of her cascading chi, the vending machine crumbled; Ed felt the back draft of air current gust against him, along with shreds of paper, some still bearing full words from the news article about the Reach.<p>

_She's looking better,_ he thought, and surprised himself. Oddly, he wasn't even sure where the thought came from, what it meant to him. She had already grown accustomed to controlling her meta-power—she even saved his Dad using it. And she had a natural ability on the skateboard, once she got used to the push-pull balancing act. But—and the honest reflection made him feel suddenly awkward—he was watching her graceful power with a sort of admiring gaze. Before she had seemed one of them, rather a tomboy. Now...

His cheeks burning, fearing his face red, Ed stepped off his ride as the gust died, kicking his board up into his hand. He cleared his throat despite himself, hoping she didn't notice. Besides, he knew Tye had a thing for her.

The late hour came bearing down once more, the night chilly and quiet. There was a sullen stillness to this world which he found comforting, if somewhat lonely. And even though the long street was marked at intervals with glowing lamps, they seemed unable to break the impenetrable darkness. Turning away from the depths of the night, he gave Sam a smile as she rolled towards him.

"Good job." He gave her a thumbs up as a visual aid.

She smiled back and nodded, pulling the board up easily.

"I think we should start heading back." He didn't expect her to understand or respond, so he simply dropped his board back down and they made off.

It was quiet again, save for the vibrating thrum of the wheels on pavement. Ed held onto the board he sort-of-stole for Tye, the extra helmet strapped to his arm, the hard-hat knocking against his lower hip, keeping his mind active. For awhile, he contemplated asking Sam her thoughts regarding Tye, wanting, quite out of nowhere, to be certain; the idea was back and forth in his brain.

Shaking free of the tumult of notions and personal opinions, he voiced without anymore forethought: "So, Sam, I was wondering—"

Without warning, one of the wheels came clean off Asami's board as if severed, shooting across the street and knocking into the curb. Momentarily, the exposed axle ground against the asphalt road with tiny sparks; but as soon as Sam felt the loss of control she jumped clear and the board bumped to an ugly stop.

Ed skidded to a halt beside her. "Whoa, are you okay?"

"Nanda—?" She looked as bewildered as he was.

Before either of them could say anything more, the dead of the night became so intense—so thick and alive—they both fell into a discontented hush. Something felt... wrong. Ed couldn't explain the sudden sensation, but it felt as if the open street turned into an enclosed tunnel. He could feel the shadows from the bordering buildings closing in around them, sucking the life right out of the world. He felt cut off, trapped, and alone.

It was then he heard the whispering hiss. "_Ssss_..."

The wind moaned that giddy sound, faint at first. But then it grew louder, the delicate voice taking shape. "_Ssss...Ssss_–"

Eduardo looked to Asami and their eyes met each other's questioningly. Whatever, or whoever, it was, it was slowly drawing closer. Slowly. Ed struggled to see down the lane, steeling himself to face this eerie presence creeping towards them. Sam swallowed loudly.

Then the feminine whisper grew stronger, began forming sing-song words. "_Ssss–_step... _Ssstep_ on a _craaack_..." The echo fell upon them with a dismal murmur... _crack... crack..._

Ed's breath caught. He could hear hollow footsteps in the distance... light, dance-like, and approaching. Ever so soft and slow, teasingly, hauntingly. Yet somehow still resonant and dangerous.

"Step on a _crack..._ break your mother's _back_."

_Crack!_ Suddenly, a snap of pink electricity burst one lamp down the street, and then the next, moving in rapid succession along the line. Until the final bulb blew out over Ed and Asami's heads, drowning them in complete darkness. The night went cold as they both buckled down, shielding themselves from the shattered glass. The pelting, pattering hail stopped.

Immediately, Eduardo pulled himself back to his full height, bringing his fists up. But as quickly as the sinister thing came, it had departed; and the world was returned to its normal, albeit now less illuminated, nighttime. The weight lifted, the street once again empty and open, but Ed couldn't stop the shiver which swept over him.

The voice, the footsteps, whatever person it perhaps was—they were gone. Almost as if it never happened.

Looking down at the shards of broken glass glinting in nothing but hazy moonlight, Ed was sure it _had_ happened. He shook his head and shuddered again. It was all very spine-chilling!

"What was—?"

And then the phone in his pant pocket rang, the jingle surprisingly loud; both he and Asami jumped with matched gasps.

He gave Sam a look of relieved fright and gnawing worry, grabbing for the phone with a shaking hand. Ed passed his tongue over lips gone dry, and his voice came breathlessly. "¿H-hola?"

"El Dorado? Is Samurai still with you?"

His shoulders slumped hearing Tye's voice. "Sí, but why are you—?"

"Yeah, we have a major problem I think."

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the creepy version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" from the video game Dead Space. All rights reserved and no infringement is intended.

And many thanks to **Candlestic** for letting me know the lyrics are originally from the poem "The Star" by Jane Taylor. :)


	4. In the Dead of Night You Went Dark on Me

**IV. **

**"There's no hate, there's no love,  
><strong>**only dark skies that hang above...  
>But I found in you what was lost in me,<br>in a world so cold and empty."**

Virgil watched with muddled emotions as Tye closed the door to their rented space, threw the lock, and then quickly followed up with the chain and bolt. Tye looked angry again. On the sofa, Ed and Sam stared straight ahead, and both appeared pale and wide-eyed.

He heard himself ask, "What happened? You two look like ya seen a ghost." That sounded eccentric, but he was beyond tired, totally sapped of strength, and after the night he had nothing would surprise him now.

Sam blankly stared back at him. After a moment, she reached down and picked up the English/Japanese dictionary from Luthor, quietly turning pages and seeming to ignore him. Ed, however, became grim.

"No sé," he mumbled heavily. "No ghost has _footsteps_." Then he growled softly, sounding both disturbed and frustrated. "No sé," he said again. "And that's what bothers me."

"Same here," said Tye, his vexed voice loud, almost echoing in the sparse apartment. "What we saw—or didn't see—has me worried."

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, trying to release the kinks and clear his mind. It didn't help. "Guys, maybe we should talk about this later. I think we could all use a good night's—err, eight hours sleep."

Suddenly, Tye hurled his gifted phone on the ground and stomped on it before it could even recoil away. It cracked, and he drove his heel into it, again and again, until he was sure it was broken.

"What was that for?" Virgil cried.

"I want Luthor on that console," came the harsh reply. "His phones might be bugged. I said I didn't trust him, and this has his name written all over it!"

"Why do you think so?" asked Ed. He seemed to take the accusation very seriously, a belligerent light glittering in his eyes, ready to have a person to blame.

"I saw someone there tonight, I'll swear to that. There was no way your electricity could ignite a diesel tank that quickly."

Virgil's eyebrows met together gloomily, the scene on constant replay like a movie in his mind. He agreed, having always been confident in his ability to manipulate the energy. He recalled the uneasy sense that _something_ else was building the powerful dosage, something working along with his electrical charge. But he held onto the guilt nonetheless; it _was_ his idea in the first place. If someone was adding fuel to the fire—literally—it was under his inspiration.

"Yeah, but—"

"Virgil," Tye said directly. "Messages don't write themselves and billboards don't need ghosts to move letters. What's worse, they knew what our goal was the entire time. _Fight the Reach. _That's what Luthor bought us for." A sneer worked its way on to the Apache teen's face, and he shook his head, almost as if he were upset at himself for falling into such a scheme. "I knew it."

"It makes sense, Virgil," Ed said.

"Okay, but is that a _bad thing_, then? I mean, maybe whoever else he hired was only tryin' to help us?"

Ed leaned forward sharply. "No. Oh no, hermano. There was no way what happened to us was helping anybody. Ours was not directed at the Reach. It was coming for us."

"I think we've been double crossed." Tye folded his arms over his chest, unyielding.

"Negaeri ya gatta... ka?" Asami muttered, staring at her translations. The expression on her face was a worn disbelief.

"Hold up now." Virgil put his hands up, like calming a flighty animal. "Let's not start jumpin' to any conclusions. We've only been workin' the beat a day. One day! I think we should give things more time than that, huh?"

Tye grimaced and Ed said, "But do we have time?" He dropped his head in his hands, fretfully reflecting, "El compañeros de infortunio, o más bien enemistarse con Luthor... ¡Cazado!" He raised his head to look at each of them. "I said it before, I think we are being hunted!"

"Nani o? Kowai kuchou motte."

At the zenith of night, the pre-dawn hours were dragging Virgil's thoughts into a tumbling spin, and now all the foreign languages and fears were driving him crazy. He had enough! This wasn't how a team was supposed to behave. "Shut up, guys! Just stop it, okay?" The others fell silent under his commanding tone. Immediately, Virgil's attitude dropped shamefully. "Sorry. I'm sorry, but this isn't gettin' us nowhere. We had a long night and it's time to rest. I know I need it!"

Sam's eyebrows lifted in a rather curious way, and Ed flopped back into the cushions; he began stroking his chin thoughtfully, now keeping whatever grave theories to himself. Tye's scowl deepened, but finally he heaved an understanding sigh.

"Sure," said Apache Chief darkly. "I'll keep following your lead."

* * *

><p>On her bed behind the closed bedroom door, Asami sat with the busted skateboard on her lap, base up. Unlike the boys, she wasn't spent after the strange ordeal. On the contrary, she felt wide awake, even jittery. So, against her body's better judgment for sleep, she decided to screw back on the broken wheel she retrieved; she didn't want to give up on her very first board, nor did she want to see Ed steal another. So she kept her hands busy.<p>

It was better than the alternative. Whatever happened back there on the shadowy street, in the dead of night, was troubling. _Bourei_. She didn't believe in ghosts or hauntings—before. But ever since the alien abduction, meeting all the super-powered heroes in person, her mind was flown wide opened like a household on a humid summer day. Enlightening to say the least, she was now willing to believe almost anything.

But if there _was_ a spirit back there, it wasn't following her. It had whispered in English. Had it been her language she might have known _who_...

Footsteps, Eduardo had said. _Ashioto_, but ghosts don't make walking sounds. What was the word Tye had used? _Ga'an_? Perhaps it was rather like his Spirit? Yet that in itself was disturbing, because it would mean the person was still of this world. Just with meta-powers.

Maybe Tye was right to be angry and suspicious? Asami shuddered.

Loosening the bushings to free the trunk, swiveling it gently to make sure it could turn properly, Asami spun the newly replaced wheel. Satisfied it would hold her slight weight, she set the board on the floor and stood. The room was a box with hardly any furniture, and, it felt, with hardly any air. She felt stuffy and cold, realizing she would still not be able to sleep. The sky outside the window was sluggishly brightening, but the dullness made her feel lonely.

On a solitary whim, Asami silently turned the knob and parted the door a crack. Tye had forced Ed to take the bedroom with Virgil, insisted the other two boys needed the enclosed sleeping quarters more; he was restless, too pissed off, and wanted to be the lone watchman. She wanted to see if he was still awake.

What she found surprised her.

Tye was indeed awake, but he sat cross-legged on the floor, the computer active on the coffee table in front of him; the vibrant L.E.D. light illuminated his heart-shaped face with a blue glow, flickering slightly as the animated screen moved. The screen was facing away from her. At intervals he spoke briefly, and she didn't need to hear the other person to know he had called upon Lex Luthor, just as he wanted.

Tye was whispering gruffly: "I dunno what game you're playing, but—"

"There is no _but_, my boy." Lex Luthor was obviously an early-riser, in the office before anyone else, and although he was undoubtedly speaking boldly, Tye kept the laptop's volume level low; Asami could barely hear him. Not that she understood it all anyway. "This is not a game to me. And I hope it's not to you."

"Then why the back-up?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you saw the report already. I told you, _we didn't write any messages_."

"Yes, and that does raise some alarming questions. I did not hire any outsiders, and there _are_ no other kids let loose by the Reach. Not to my knowledge, or the League's. It's just you four. Just you to whom I entrusted this task."

"Reassuring." His tone was sarcastic and nasty.

"I can assure you that I will look into this thoroughly. I appreciate your concern for the team—"

"They're my _friends_, Luthor. And you better make sure they're safe."

Asami didn't need to have a perfect grasp on English to hear his devoted protection towards the word "friend". A soft smile came to her lips. She was worried at first, when she saw him confronting Luthor without them, behind their backs; but now her negative feelings faded fast. Tye may have deeper motives to act recklessly, of his own will, yet he did so out of care for his friends. It was a trait to be admired, not doubted.

"I did promise to protect you. I will make good on that." Tye nodded hotly, the stern expression never faltering despite the pleased acquiescence.

"For now, stay low until I can make heads-or-tails of this situation. I can guarantee there are likely other Earthlings out there not happy about the Reach; perhaps it is starting quicker than I anticipated? In that case, all of you did well tonight and the hit was solid and necessary. I will not contact you until later. After your busy overnight, I think you and your friends need to take it easy. Get some sleep, Tye Longshadow."

The screen dimmed, a sign the two-way video ended. Tye leaned back against the sofa, crossing his arms and mulling things over. However, he did appear more at ease with Lex Luthor, and maybe he finally believed the businessman to be on their side. Asami was sure they hadn't been betrayed, although she knew men like Luthor were never on the righteous up-and-up. He didn't bother her; it was just a matter of watching your back around him, and nodding politely to his face.

Asami contemplated: should she duck back into her room, or join Tye so he'd know she witnessed his conversation? And admired him for it. Without much thought, she fully opened the door and stepped quietly into the mouth of the hallway.

Immediately Tye noticed, jumping to lower the screen. And just as fast he gave up, knowing it useless. "Hey Sam," he whispered, his face flushing. "How long have you been up?"

"Suimasen." Smiling, Asami tried to piece the question together through context. "Shibaraku _appu_."

He grinned back guiltily. "Awhile, right?" Then he inhaled deeply, a dragging breath that was obviously meant to reprimand himself. With penance, he said truly, "I'm sorry. Must make _me_ look like the traitor."

She sat down on the sofa, her smile now sympathetic. "Tye-kun, no sorry kudasai."

Tilting his head back, he gazed up at her with surprise and bewilderment. Not because he didn't understand her broken English, she knew, but because he couldn't understand how she _couldn't_ fault him for sneaking around. Then his eyes brightened, a dawn more heartwarming than the one outside, and he pulled himself onto the couch next to her.

"Thanks," he said. She chuckled next when he said none-too-smoothly, "Arigatou, is it?"

"Hai. Yes."

"Just don't tell the others, okay? I'm not sure they'd go as easy on me. Not that I'd blame them."

It was a little much to take in, but she got the gist of what he was asking for. "Okay." And Asami held out her pinky to him with a rather naughty, excited grin. "Yakusoku."

One dark eyebrow arched up into his headband, but the curiosity vanished with sudden recognition. He responded with an impish smirk of his own and hooked his pinky with hers. Asami felt a warmth shoot through her arm from his touch, giving her goose-bumps, but she forced herself to mask the girlish glee.

Tye shook their conjoined fists and said, almost amazed, "Pinky swear! I don't think I've ever done that, not even as a kid." All the anger and distrust was long gone from his face, and for once he looked satisfied and joyful. Asami was glad she could do that for him. "I'm holding you to this, you know?"

Somehow the word came right to her, from the night reading the phonebook with him. "Forever."

An unusual affection came into his eyes with a far away glint, as if he were seeing that "forever" down the road. And for a long while the two just held each other's gazes. When she became conscious she was ogling, she dropped her stare and blushed. Tye stiffened, as if unsure; then in a gentlemanly manner, trying to recover both of their dignities, he patted her hand and released the pact.

"Forever," he repeated huskily. Then he offered in a rush, "You seem to pick up words quickly. Wanna practice more?" He took up the dictionary and thumbed the pages. "Um... keiko? With me?"

She beamed, and as the sun broke through the blinds on the window, all the horrors from the night melted away. "With you, hai."

* * *

><p>Virgil sat bolt upright, startled awake and a gasp dying on his lips; or was it going to be a scream? Had he been dreaming? He was sweating, and already it turned cold and clammy on his skin, making him shiver despite the well-developed daylight outside. It appeared to be around late morning already, and a flat of grey clouds kept the sun hidden and the temperature balmy.<p>

Checking his breathing, Virgil heaved a steady sigh. "Hoo boy," he breathed out. _That must have been some nightmare!_ But he couldn't remember much of it. Still all he could think about was the fires last night, the rocking explosion.

Just then Ed whined softly in his sleep, his lips forming half-conscious sentences. And Virgil wondered if perhaps _he_ was the one having a nightmare which had woken the other. Incoherent, like someone possessed, his mumbled words had a flow, almost like a rhyme or song. Virgil reached over and shook the Argentinean boy's shoulder. Eduardo jerked and forced himself awake.

He whispered grumpily, "¿Qué es? What, Virgil?"

"You okay? You were talkin' in your sleep."

Ed groaned, as if that were a horrible reason to rouse him. Though he closed his eyes again, he muttered, "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Unsure, Virgil shrugged and replied quietly, "It's fine. Were you havin' a nightmare 'bout tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. What happened to you guys? You were kinda buggin'."

"Mmm, no sé... just a nightmare. If it was a message, I did not understand it."

"Message?" Memories of the smoldering words on the parking lot rushed his mind. "What was it?"

"Step on a crack and break your mother's back... algo por el estilo. Tonto, ¿eh?"

"You're kiddin'?" That was _not_ the message Virgil was expecting, not after what he and Tye experienced.

"Uh-uh." Suddenly, Ed rolled towards him and clapped him on the back in a definite manner. "Don't worry about it, man. Now go back to sleep." Then he turned away, curling up on his side with a purposeful sigh. "Buenas noches."

So it _was_ in fact an old rhyme Eduardo was speaking in his sleep, and even though he seemed unable to remember the slumbering emotions, it obviously bothered Ed. It bothered Virgil now, too. It was indeed a strange statement, from Lex Luthor or anybody else. Virgil opened his mouth to ask Ed if either he, or Sam, saw the speaker, then decided against it. Better leave them rest, he thought; it was above all Dr. Hawkin's remedy. _Best take my own advice._

Lying back down, he folded his hands behind his head, trying to relax. Virgil gave a weary glance back at Ed. His bedmate slept exactly as his temperament dictated: rather defensively. On his side and taking up little space, while managing to create an empty barrier around them, Ed's arms hugged his pillow and his spine bowed against the blanket, as if possessive of his half of the stuff. Virgil grinned sadly.

Their little runaway family may not have much, but they all had turned to him as the leader of the group, and he felt a fatherly sense of responsibility about that. If Luthor would provide for them, then he would be the one to make sure they were protected. This team could thrive, and conquer, as long as he defended them and led the way with care.

_With care_. Which meant no more abusing his powers. If he had strength, it wasn't about testing his limits and breaking records; it was about knowing when to use that power judiciously. As an avid comic book reader, Virgil knew what fantastical feats superheroes were capable of, and he was excited to be that sort of epic vigilante now. But he had to use reasonable force and not show off, no matter how proud he was of his electric powers. _I can do this,_ he told himself with a bit of arrogance. A strong will would win the day, and he could do it, he knew.

Feeling better about himself, his power, Virgil reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his baseball cap, laying it over his face to blot out the light. He was tired and his eyes finally closed, but as he drifted back towards sleep, Ed's words lingered on his mind.

_Step on a crack and break your mother's back. _

A child's omen of bad luck. What did it mean—for them? Ed was right before, it didn't seem to be the straight-forward Earth versus Reach declaration theirs was. What else had Ed said? _"It was coming for us." _Although not one to be outright superstitious, Virgil couldn't help but feel the weight of that portent. Bad luck was coming for them?

_Well then,_ was his final thought before falling asleep, _best not step through any cracks..._

* * *

><p>Stretching his arms behind his back, Ed walked into the main living area just as the sun was setting. And saw Tye and Sam fast asleep on the couch together. Although the scene was innocent enough, the language self-study books strewn around, his eyes narrowed hurtfully. Quickly reminding himself it was inevitable, Eduardo swallowed down the bitterness before shaking his head with a forced good humor. <em>So Tye finally made his move, huh? <em>he joked inwardly. Somehow the ribbing thought wasn't pleasant in nature.

Evening was veiling the light fast, and instead of a refreshed spirit after such a long sleep, there was a heaviness pulling him down, a sense of foreboding and despair. Perhaps it was intuition—because just then Virgil came bursting into the room, saying "Yeah," on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket.

Both Tye and Sam jumped awake as Ed asked, "Who were you talking to?"

Instead of answering, Virgil switched on the television set and flipped to a streaming news station. The volume was quiet and all they heard was a hushed monotone of newsfeed, given in a flat voice that tried to make the information seem urgent, even when for the rest of the world it was not. In the upper-left corner, a smaller screen was broadcasting coast-to-coast happenings as the reporter recited the headlines.

They saw a bespectacled black man speaking into microphones shoved in his face, and Virgil made a _tsk_ sound. "Pops..." he grumbled. The Runaways turned briefly-stunned eyes to him.

"That's your Dad?" Tye asked, nonchalantly disconnecting himself from Asami, who pulled away, shy yet uneager. "What's he doing on the news?"

"I didn't call them yet," Virgil replied. "I guess he's puttin' my name out there, askin' me to come home. Prol'ly my sister's doin' since she's all up in your face like that." He propped a fist on his hip with a look of chagrin, as if expecting to get into a sibling fight right then and there.

"It's only local," Eduardo observed. He pointed out the microphones; all had smaller radio station names and 'Dakota' written on them.

"That's good," said Tye. "At least you didn't make the front page in National news. When we start seeing Missing Person flyers everywhere then we can worry."

The line of Virgil's mouth pulled thin in doubt. "Luthor phoned me up to tell me to watch the TV, but he didn't sound worried neither."

"Well, there you go."

"Don't worry, please," said Asami, and her voice was a wealth of understanding.

The sudden, unbroken English sentence caught them off guard. Virgil quirked an eyebrow at her, then both he and Ed looked at Tye. The Mescalero teen gave them a smile and spread his hands with an omnipotent shrug, looking pleased with his teacherly self. Sam grinned with pride.

And even though her statement was short, that it did come from her—with an unbridled sense of perseverance—brought a clearer encouragement. So Virgil agreed. "Yeah, I s'pose for now my mug's just another face in the crowd. We still got time."

With a queer hesitation Tye asked, "Did Luthor say anything about last night?"

"Not much." Tye seemed to relax at the offhand answer. "He just said he heard, but what we did also didn't make National headlines. So as long as we don't provoke anymore, um, explosions, the locals won't be on the defensive. We can keep operatin'."

"Do you have any plans?"

"Actually, now, maybe I _do_..."

Eduardo was barely listening to them anymore; his eyes kept flicking towards Sam. Then he stared at the screen again, and even though the news blurb had given way to already a dozen more stories from across the country, he kept seeing the pleading face of Virgil's father. It must be nice, he imagined, to have a family care that much about you, to ask the neighborhood—and hope to implore the world—to bring you home safe.

It must be nice to have _someone_...

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Dark On Me" by Starset. All copyrights reserved and no infringement is intended.


	5. Open Your Eyes Because I Will Show You

**V. **

**"And everything you try to say to me, you said it all before.  
>You only fuel the fire, can't you see?<br>And now I want it more, it makes me want it more."**

Twilight was quietly settling in, forcing the hidden sun deeper towards the horizon in washed out tones of mauve. The grey clouds which had blanketed the sky all day rolled tighter, thicker, and were now threatening rain. Eduardo Jr. stood as if frozen to the sidewalk, staring at the telephone booth in front of him. Hesitantly, he looked back down the block at the apartment complex where the others were still plotting, then back to the payphone, fingering the coins in his vest pocket. Should he?

With a reluctant sigh, he slipped into the outdated kiosk, sealing himself inside as he continued to struggle with his decision. He wasn't sure if the payphone was a wise choice, remembering Lex Luthor warning them to stay off landlines. Then again, last night Tye had suspicions of Luthor's mobile devices being bugged. But that wasn't the trust he was struggling with...

Frustrated with himself, Ed picked up the phone from the cradle. For a moment, he hoped the rather useless phone box would be inoperable, dead, thus making the decision easy for him. Instead, the dial tone droned loudly, waiting. So with another sigh, he inserted the pay and dialed the phone number.

He didn't know the department extension, so Ed had to wait for the switchboard operator to take his call. "S.T.A.R. Labs. How may I help you?"

"Dr. Eduardo Dorado, please."

"One moment." The woman's voice gave way to elevator music.

A tightness began building in his chest as he waited, knowing his father would still be at work, even at this late hour. It's just what he did—the _only_ thing the man did was work. And true enough, the line connected within seconds.

"Hello?"

Hearing his father's strong tenor had a silencing effect on the son, the richly accented voice always so sure and demanding. Ed Jr. felt an overwhelming rise of mixed emotions, a sudden lonely regression and angry discontent; but also a sense of hope and affection.

"This is Dr. Dorado," Eduardo Sr. said impatiently.

Ed bit his lip, now not even knowing why he bothered to call in the first place. What should he say? Maybe he should just hang up? It was enough to hear his father, to know he was well... And yet he realized that was not why he called; his reasons were more selfish.

"Hola, padre."

"¿Eduardo?" Hearing the instant surprise and worry in his father's voice made Ed smile. "¿Estás bien? Dónde estás?"

Ed leaned back into the plexiglass of the small structure, a surge of appreciation draining him. "I'm okay," he said, avoiding the second query. "Are you?"

There was a brief pause as his father calmed himself, and Ed had the grateful image of his Dad ready to rush out of the office to come get his son. If only he could believe it. "Sí. Sí, I am fine. But _where_ are you?"

"I'm with my friends."

In the face of his son's reluctance, Eduardo Sr. changed his tactics. "Como tú sabes, the labs are under reconstruction, but, mi hijo, you and the others are not safe on the outside."

"Seems the labs are not safe, either."

His father gave a dark chuckle. "Comes with this job. But on the same end, we have the Justice League looking out for us."

A double-edged sword, Eduardo wondered if his father knew, despite the white coat and science technology, he was still living life on the edge of that knife. He had a vague sense of pride at the thought, a sort of youthful anarchy intrigued by the fancy. Then another thought came to mind, and Ed Jr. pondered if he should warn his father about Blue Beetle's apparent betrayal.

But before he could, his senior said, "I need the League to protect you, too. Mi hijo, por favor, let us watch over you."

There was an unhappiness in his father's voice that struck Eduardo hard, and he felt guilty—but also, honestly, loved. Ed realized he got what he wanted from the call. His responsible side told him to end now, hang up on a good note, but for whatever reason, he lingered on the moment. He'd never go back he knew, but it was like he _needed_ to consider it. He needed his father to want him back.

And then it happened, as it always did: the rebellious teenager rose up, thinking back to his years abandoned in Argentina, and how _he_ had to make the effort, always the one wanting more. And he sniffed back his emotions and said, "I can't."

"Eduardo—"

"No."

As if fearing his son would hang up on him, Eduardo Sr. offered quickly, "We can send you to our sister labs, mi hijo, during reconstruction here. One that studies super-humans. They might find the cure you want."

_Heh!_ He couldn't believe it! How fast he fell back on his word to take care of him. Worse, his father made it sound like it was a good thing! "Locking me away and forgetting about me is _not_ keeping me safe," he snapped. "Not here, not in Argentina."

"I did not mean—"

"Never again, padre. I'm staying with my friends."

And as the first droplets of rain fell against the booth, Eduardo Jr. hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>"<em>Where<em> are you?"

"Don't worry, Pops," Virgil said. "I'm somewhere safe."

"What happened? First, you call and ask for money to come home. And the next thing I know, I'm seeing on the news the bus station we wired the funds to collapsed!"

"Oh. Right..."

"And on top of that, when I called S.T.A.R. the lines were down. The next morning they told me there was an incident—quote unquote—and the labs collapsed. If it weren't for the news report about that robot, Red Volcano, I would've thought—" Robert Hawkins sighed in a defeated way. "I didn't know what to think. We were so worried."

"I'm sorry."

"Sharon said if you weren't dead, she's going to kill you."

"Yeah, I kinda figured." Virgil chuckled. It was strange, but before he used to think all of his sister's haggling was amusing to the point of being obnoxious, and Sharon knew how to push all the right buttons. But their sibling bickering didn't seem so negative now. In fact, he _missed_ it, missed that about his sis. "Tell her she's welcome to try next time I see her. She might be in for a little _shock_, though."

"Next time? Virgil, why don't you just come home today?"

"I can't. These other guys—my friends, they need me."

And talking to his father made him all the more adamant about it. He felt bad for Tye, Ed, and Sam; they were kidnapped by the Reach as runaways, trying to escape something horrible in their lives. Virgil couldn't even imagine the turmoil and tragedy they may have faced, events and feelings so strong they fled from everything they'd ever known. And instead of life getting better, it turned around and threw them a greater curveball. He knew quite well life could be cruel to people like that; it was merciless sometimes.

But he wasn't a runaway. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, the victim of fate. Sure, it sucked, but he came out of the Reach ship with at least something to go back to. These three really didn't, and it seemed too unfair to Virgil. He wanted to help them, and right now the only way he knew how was by staying by their sides. If nothing else, he was a part of this fight; it wasn't over yet.

"That's noble, son, but if you're in some kind of danger—"

"Thanks, Pops." He sensed his Dad's stunned hesitation over the line, so he explained, "I know ya don't hear this often but I'm glad you're lookin' out for me. But see, my friends here, they don't have that, and I can't run out on them. We're in this together."

"So bring them with you."

"Then I'd have to worry 'bout you guys, too. It's not the right time."

"Virgil—"

"Please just trust me, aight? This is something I gotta do."

His father sighed again, this time in resignation, hearing the bold firmness in his son's voice. Virgil himself was surprised by his own dogged conviction, and he felt empowered by it. "Okay. I'll trust your judgment. But don't leave us hanging anymore. I want you to at least touch base and keep us updated."

He wasn't quite certain it would be possible, but he said, "Sure." Hoping that trust would hold out, he continued, "And come to it, I was wonderin' if you could gimme the number to one of the stations that interviewed you. I dunno if anybody will believe me, but I have a story to tell..."

* * *

><p>"Look what the cat dragged in."<p>

The rainstorm had let loose as soon as Eduardo left the phone booth, and despite the downpour he continued to dawdle outside. Now he came back into the apartment dripping wet and looking thoroughly bedraggled and miserable. But it was his spirit which was the most downtrodden as he entered, standing in the doorway with a frown.

"Where did you disappear to?" Tye asked when it was clear he'd been outside.

"Outside," was all Ed said.

With a glance at the rain splattered window, Tye remarked, "Yeah, I can see that. Why?"

"Doesn't matter." Ed threw his head down to shake out the water from his hair. When he straightened he noticed Tye was packing up the computer equipment. "What are you doing?"

"Well, while you went out for some fresh air, Virgil decided to finally call his Dad. He also decided to use the news report against the Reach and phone in his story of _why_ he went missing."

"Really?" In fact, he could hear Virgil's steady voice from the bedroom.

"I suppose he'll spin-doctor it for dramatic flair, just like he did with that soccer mom and the drinks. But at least his local news will hear a bit of what's going on."

"So why are you packing?"

"It's probably too risky to stay here. Virgil thinks the station will phone the police and track his whereabouts; and I agree. So like Luthor suggested before, we need to move to a new base."

Nodding, Eduardo followed Tye to the bay window and helped him stow away the remainder of their provisions. They didn't have much left and would be ready to go as soon as Virgil got off the phone. Hopefully, by that time, the storm would pass on; it was hard to judge the clouds with the encroaching black of night, but Ed noticed the rain had already calmed to a steady drizzle.

Glancing around, he asked, "Where's Asami?"

"She hauled some of the trash to the dumpster," said Tye. "I told her to leave it, but I guess she doesn't want us to look like messy houseguests."

Ed smirked at her proper, endearing manners, and without thinking he dared, "So you and Sam are pretty serious, huh?"

"What do you mean by serious?"

"Well, you know, I seen you guys sleeping together..."

Despite the devilish grin that spread across his face, Tye replied, "It wasn't like that, dude."

"No, I know you weren't _sleeping together_, you were just sleeping. Together. But I mean—"

With a chuckle, Tye put one of the skate helmets atop his head, patting it down in a genial, brotherly manner. "Dig it deeper, Ed," he laughed.

Offended, embarrassed, Ed smacked his hand away with more force than he wanted, falling into himself with a glower.

"What's wrong with you, man?"

Eduardo swallowed hard, a pang of regret stabbing through him. Yet still he heard himself reply in a biting tone, "Nothing is _wrong_ with me."

"You seem upset about something."

Ed shrugged and shook his helmeted head.

Tye said suspiciously, "Where did you go?"

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's just, the last time you were this upset it was 'cuz you'd been fighting with your Dad."

"It's nothing." Ed began to recognize the hurt that Tye was referring to, and now he was ashamed of his foolish behavior. He shouldn't have enquired, and he definitely shouldn't have over-reacted. "Sorry, I was just asking since—"

And as he spoke he braved to look Tye in the eyes finally. Only to catch the Apache boy glance out the window with a grave expression.

An expression which darkened when he focused on someone outside.

Suddenly, Tye grabbed Ed by the scarf and dragged him to the floor—just as the bay window shattered!

Eduardo heard the high-pitched, crackling explosion, felt his chest and chin strike the floorboards as panes of glass came showering down. "¡Dios mío! What the hell—?"

"Reach!" Tye barked.

Ed's eyes widened as he stared across the floor at Tye, and he said the first thing that sprang to mind: "Maybe now you believe me?"

An out-of-place humor lit Tye's eyes in response to Ed's constant paranoia, a hunting now come true. Then he called, "Virgil!" before picking himself up onto his hands and knees; he motioned Ed away from the window.

Eduardo slid himself backwards, kneeling just outside the broken sill, his back to the wall. Tye and he rose cautiously to their feet, and he said almost hopelessly, "Guess it's not a good time to say I told you so."

Tye countered, "Then it's not a good time to say I'm sorry, neither." He gave his friend a dismal grin as Virgil came darting out of the back room.

"Was that a gunshot?" he asked, and they saw the phone still in his hand.

Tye shook his head. "Reach soldier. We need to get out of here _now_!"

At first they thought Virgil would keep the phone's connection alive so the news reporter would hear them under attack. Finally, deciding against going public with the vicious live show, he stowed the mobile in his pocket. And lifted his manhole cover with his power, shooting it flat against the window to provide them some coverage.

Free to move, Tye jumped for the computers and gear. "They'll be coming up. This is gonna be fast. Ed, go get Sam! Meet us outside, _quick_."

Without another word, Eduardo snatched up their two skateboards and went to the front door, strapping on the helmet as if heading into battle. He checked the hallway, listened, and when he was sure it was still clear, he ran for the stairwell. His adrenaline was high, making his blood pound in his ears, and the sound of his racing down the stairs echoed loudly. In the corner of his thoughts, he wondered if they actually did trace his call. _Dammit! Damn me!_

Ed had only seen one figure outside, but he was sure the Reach soldiers wouldn't travel alone; nor would they risk sending an army. Tye was right: this would be _fast_, like a falcon in the dive to claw up their prey on the spot. The Reach wouldn't attempt a recklessly long stand-off, or put themselves in the spotlight with a public chase. They must have thought they could immobilize the escaped lab rats in one fell swoop.

But they thought wrong. All the Runaways had to do was get out of the building and they'd be free. Would that be easier said than done, though?

Halfway down the second story flight, Eduardo saw Asami coming up the steps towards him. She was running and her eyes were wide with fear. "Nani ga okotta no ka? Atashi ga kiitteta gangan de—"

Instead of answering, he forced her to take a skateboard and grabbed her hand, whipping her back around, taking her down the stairs again. Almost at the bottom, they saw the lights in the lobby suddenly go out, a blackness reaching into the stairwell for them. Ed stopped with a curse. And then the blackout happened, the entire complex drowned in a void of darkness, as if dropped off the face of the earth. No witnesses.

Ed turned and pushed Asami along, urging her to retreat, once more going back up the stairs as swiftly as possible. Below them, he heard a door slam, and now heavier footfalls were hammering up through the spiraling rise with theirs.

They were two flights away from their apartment landing when the door to the next available level opened; and Sam cried out in alarm when she saw the Reach solider, cloaked in black. Boxed in, Eduardo saw no choice but to force Sam out of the stairwell and into the hallway of the current apartment block. Through the shadowy halls they ran, hearing the pursuers close at their heels. And Ed had a flashing thought: _They're herding us!_

And where was Virgil and Tye?

He didn't like the idea of not knowing, of being cornered and caged, and extreme anger welled inside him. Especially thinking it might be his fault. Through the tunnel-like hallway, all of the apartment doors remained sealed shut, closed off to the fleeing teenagers—all save one...

Down the length a door unexpectedly opened; he saw the gaping black mouth of the homestead welcoming them.

Without considering, Ed stopped—he wheeled around and, with all his strength, smashed the skateboard deck into the soldier's head; the board broke in half. The alien crashed into the wall and fell heavily as he told Sam, "Get inside!"

She dived for the opened doorway. The second Reach soldier was stalled by the inert body of its fallen comrade, giving Ed the chance to follow Asami inside. Together, they banged closed the door and Sam threw the bolt, her fingers working nervously at the chain until that, too, was locking the entry.

The dark apartment was barren of life. It only took them a moment to realize it was unoccupied, having only the minimal furnishings their own did. _So who opened the door?_

Ed sprang for the loveseat. "Ayúdame," he asked Sam as he wrapped his arms around the smaller couch. Instantly, she helped him lift and drag the piece to blockade the door, even as the solider beyond began throwing its weight against it.

Then, breathlessly, Ed tucked the remaining board under his arm and took Sam's hand again, leading her into the back bedroom. The next thing they knew, the vacant apartment fell silent, the pounding at the door ceased. Their panicked breathing filled the room with a menacing chill. He was sure the Reach had not given up, however.

"Fire escape," he said, pointing her to the window. "We need to get out of here."

"Tomodachi ga! What about friends?"

"They'll be there," he replied helplessly, not at all certain. "Tye said meet them outside."

Sam hesitated a moment, but when he said Tye's name she nodded. She peered out the window first, making sure their climb would be safe before she went out. Ed quickly followed, looking over his shoulder one last time, hoping, somehow, to see the others. He knew it was an irrational wish...

But all the same, as he ducked his head out the window, he could have sworn he saw someone standing in the black living room.

A passing vision of someone on the verge of terror, he imagined, because it was gone as soon as the image came, the shape of the person dissolving into the other shadows. So Ed followed Sam down the rungs, hearing the rusted metal heave under their abrupt weight, rust falling in great chunks under their hands. It was still raining and the old ladders were slippery with grime.

Just then: "Edu-kun!"

Looking down, Ed saw beyond Sam to the alley below, seeing one of their pursuers there. It held a lance with a curved bayonet end, and remembering how the window was shot out, Ed was certain the lances were in fact alien muskets. _¡Mierda!_

As if the same thought struck her, Sam suddenly took on a rippling glow, the aura of her power showing. Ed felt the air current build and she released the ladder, shooting down through the swirling vortex of her chi. She and her energy pummeled the Reach soldier to the ground with a force so strong the alien's helmet cracked, revealing a pale bald face, a visage so like that of the Beetles. Ed climbed onto the nearest landing just as Sam's reverse draft projected her back upwards; he reached out in time to take her hand, helping her vault over the rail to the platform.

If they couldn't go down, they had to go up. "Can you make it to the roof?" Ed asked, jabbing his thumb skyward so she'd understand quicker.

Sam nodded, the same glow enveloping her body. As she lifted off, Ed directed his own eyes up, locking his gaze on the edge of the rooftop way above. He teleported, and reappeared on the ledge just as Asami released her power to touch down. Overhead, the low clouds rumbled with new thunder; the storm was returning.

Turning about and pacing the perimeter, Ed began scanning the pathways and roads around the complex, hoping to find Tye and Virgil. When neither he, nor Sam, saw anybody—not a living soul at all in the wet darkness—he gave an exasperated, loud sigh, leaning into his knees, tired and worried.

"Nani ga nandaka wakaranai," Asami said. "Watashitachi no atama ga _panikku_ ni ochiitte seiri ga tsukanai. Shūchūsuru arimasu."

Clutching the skateboard, Ed looked at her stupidly. "Ah, mi amiga, I'm bilingual and I _still_ have no idea what you just said!"

"Focus," she said urgently. She pointed to the center of the building where the water tower, ventilation and power units, and assuredly the way back downstairs, all sat within a pen of chain link fencing.

Yes, they needed to find the others and get the hell out of there. He nodded his understanding, and as they raced around the sections of operating systems his eyes watched carefully for the raised roof of the covered stairwell. So intent—he failed to see the movement up ahead, only hearing Asami cry out in warning. Looking up, he saw another Reach solider coming for them.

Ed slid to a frantic halt along with Sam. He wanted to curse, but had no time as the alien raised the spearhead of its weapon; he could only place himself protectively in front of Asami and prepare for the blow.

Instead, they were spared when Tye suddenly rose up behind the solider, throwing an arm around its neck—his hand gripping the kitchen utility knife against the alien's throat. There was a fierceness and rage which went beyond description in the Native American boy's face, the sharp steel more than warningly close to the Reach hunter.

"Drop it," he growled.

There was a hesitation from the soldier, then it said something in the Reach's native tongue, a clicking, insect-like chatter. It sounded defensive and rather bold. Tye jerked its body from behind with his other arm, throwing it against his blade with a harsher suggestion.

"Tye-kun!" Sam gasped, sure he would do it.

"Tye..." Ed said quietly, his tone imploring. For all his hatred towards the alien race, Eduardo wasn't quite certain he wanted to see the soldiers' blood spilled so garishly.

But Tye inhaled sharply, and there was a moment where Ed expected to see the edge slice in; the other boy's face was vengeful, almost bloodthirsty. And, Ed knew, Tye would likely do anything to save Asami. He held his breath.

Instead, the Reach soldier lowered its weapon. Satisfied, Tye then drove his knee into the hollow of the soldier's back, forcing the alien to buckle over. As it did, Tye cracked it in the nape of the neck with the rounded handle of the knife, knocking the Reach's hunter out cold. Both Sam and Ed wilted in relief.

"You guys okay?" Tye asked.

And Virgil's voice screamed: "_Look out!_"

The beam of another lance fired wide, and Ed grabbed Sam to shield her just as the discharge exploded near their feet, cement bits flying. With a practiced ease, Tye ducked, rotated, and flipped the blade in his hand, hurling it at the alien behind him. It spun in an arc, but before the knife sunk into the soldier's arm it gained ground and lashed out; the sharp point of its own weapon caught Tye along the side.

A powerful bolt of blue electricity shot the wounded alien soldier off its feet as Virgil hovered in to intervene. "Tye, man! God, you alright?"

Sam, then Ed, went to his side, but Tye was already standing and spitting obscenities. "Mother—! Yeah, I'm fine."

Only momentarily did he inspect the gash, seeing more clothing torn than flesh. Both his and Virgil's faces were slick with sweat, a thick perspiration that was obviously not the rainfall. They must have battled their way out of the apartment.

Virgil looked exhausted and bogged down, multitasking his power to ride his manhole cover, carry the computer equipment, and fight. "Let's bail, guys, before they get their second wind."

"How many are there?" Ed asked with an anxious glance at the fallen.

"Four, I think. One for each of us."

Eduardo shook his head, knowing all of the hunters were down, but would be back up again in a matter of minutes—precious time they needed to get away. Tye kicked the last skateboard towards them and gave Sam her helmet. Then Virgil hung the padded laptop satchel around Ed's neck, distributing the weight so he could take Tye's hand and swing him up behind on the flying disc.

With no more words, the four runaways left their initial base: Asami swept herself and the skateboard across the sky with a spiritual-like glow and a calamitous sphere of wind. Ed rolled his skateboard towards the roof's edge, snapping the tail and popping the board off the building; as he caught air and grabbed the base, he teleported through the inevitable fall, reappearing to drop safely on the road below with Sam. Virgil and Tye sailed the electromagnetic currents at ground level, following them away from the fight.

They had speed and the cover of the night storm to give them their escape. And behind, under the cascading sheets of rain, the lights came back on in the apartments.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "I Will Show You" by From Ashes to New. They're a really awesome indie band, and I've used their song "My Fight" to make an AMV tribute for the Runaways, which can be found on YouTube. ;) All rights reserved with no infringement intended.


	6. I'm Looking on to the Second Horizon

**VI.**

**"Pushing past, pushing through the pain****.  
>You can't tell where the sun is rising.<br>Night is darkest just before the day."**

They travelled along side roads and over laneways, staying behind houses and within the shadows. All night they kept pace, stopping only to destroy any of the Reach's media fanfare they came upon, their thirst for payback at its peak. Finally, Virgil led them into a 24-hour diner, even though not a one had an appetite; they sat in silence while Virgil went through the diner's phonebook. By daybreak, the four Runaways came to the nearest motel Virgil could find.

At the front desk he was not required to provide an I.D. and there were no questions asked when he paid in cash. Just the reason he chose this particular type of rest stop. Nevertheless, when the overnight clerk eyeballed the diverse lot, he said with forced humor, "Exchange students. Thought I'd show 'em a night on the town, ya know?"

Sam supplied a tiny wave. "Konnichiwa." Her voice was bleary.

Ed stayed close to Tye, who was the most battle worn, and offered support when he saw the other falter; but he gave the clerk a side smirk befitting a teenager hitting up the local raves and dives. Tye still managed to find the strength to roll his eyes, however, and—obviously not in the mood for social manners or innocent games of pretend—left the lobby for the rooms.

Virgil quickly signed the ledger and took the room key. Before they stalked outside after Tye, the clerk said, "Just no riding skateboards inside, or on the lot."

And Eduardo responded by kicking his board up into his hand and quipping in a foreboding voice, "Pero no prometo nada."

Their room was a single with double beds and not much else, but at present they had no qualms with the downgrade in residence. Once inside, Eduardo laid the computer satchel on a bed and immediately retrieved the laptop. Virgil watched over his shoulder as he tried to establish a connection, to no avail.

"The firewall is down."

Virgil took out his phone and pressed the first speed-dial number. It, too, did not connect to their benefactor. "Crap. Looks like we might be on our own for awhile."

"I hope he didn't cut us loose because he was also found out." Ed unstrapped his helmet and chucked it on the ground so hard it bounced away. "Now what?" He dropped heavily onto the mattress next to the computer, eyes on Virgil.

Sensing his prodding for direction, Virgil shook his head. "I dunno. I think... I think maybe if he were found out, they would use his connections against us, lure us out. It's probably down _'cuz _they came after us. I think it's best we stay apart and lay low for the time being. Wait 'til he contacts us again."

Tye of a sudden scoffed. "If Luthor is in trouble, I'm not bothering to save his ass."

As if the statement was redundant, Virgil reminded, "You didn't trust him anyway."

"Yeah, but he's not the reason they found us," Tye said boldly. "Is he Ed?"

Eduardo Jr. scowled but said nothing. Confused and instantly feeling the heaviness between them, Virgil asked either boy, "What's that s'pose to mean?"

"You went outside and called your Dad, didn't you, Ed?" Tye's expression was dismally satisfied, like a sleuth who finally solved the puzzle but was bothered by the truth. "That's why you were pissed when you came back."

Ed's face fell from a glare to hurt shame. He nodded, and it seemed like he was biting back words. Virgil could sense the fight coming...

"A landline to S.T.A.R., that's how they found us."

"Okay, whoa, Tye." Virgil moved towards Apache Chief, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. Sam stood nearby, her eyes worried as well. "That's not fair to be blamin' Ed. They coulda used my call to the news station as well. You and I both agreed the station, and probably cops, would try G.P.S.-ing the call. If they could track us through satellite data and radio waves and whatnot, I'm sure the Reach were also watchin' 'em."

"But the landline was closer to home."

It seemed the word "home" struck a chord with Eduardo, who finally rose and owned up to the accusation. "I called my Dad, sí. But how was I suppose to know? You said Luthor's phones might be bugged, too."

"He assured me they weren't—" Holding firm to his stance, Tye still tensed at his own declaration mistakenly given.

Virgil did a double take, noticing Sam's mouth fall open slightly; she already knew what he'd done. "Wait a sec, how... You called Luthor that night, didn't you? Even though I said drop it, you went behind our backs?" Now Sam bit her lip.

"After the shit I've been through, Virgil," said Tye in his defense, "it's hard to sit back and do nothing."

"Not his fault," Asami interjected, and Virgil saw Ed's face take on a deeper look of injury as she stood up for Tye. "Virgil-kun, no blame please."

"I'm not blamin' anyone, Sam," he assured her, though it was difficult to keep the irritation out of his tone. "But it's hard to lead if you guys don't listen."

"Calavera no chilla," Ed said to Tye with derision. There was a scalding, sinister note to his voice which Virgil didn't like. "You are one to talk about blame, hermano."

"But you were warned. It was a stupid move."

"And you backstabbed us, is what I hear."

"Then your hearing is wrong, esé."

"Guys..." Virgil felt an anxious rise, his body starting to pump adrenaline through his veins. He stood by listening as their words continued fueling the fire, and he could sense the imminent explosion. "Let's not do this, guys. We're beat down and—"

But Eduardo wasn't listening; his hands balled into fists as he invaded Tye's space. Virgil put a pacifying hand out, trying to keep him at bay, and he felt walled in by the other two boys' mounting frustration and anger. "Slow down, Ed."

It was like Virgil wasn't even there; Tye crowded into him now.

"Why are you walking up on me, dude?"

"At least I _care_ enough to talk to my Dad."

"Oh, gimme a break, Ed. All you do is yell and scream at your old man."

Knowing the personal attacks were too touchy, Virgil grabbed Tye's collar in warning, giving him a little jostle to enunciate his message to back down.

But Tye wasn't about to be the one to give. "Maybe I should talk louder? Since that's the only way you know how to communicate."

Ed furiously slammed his hands into Tye, and Virgil could do nothing but throw himself between them, or else watch the blows fly. "Hey, hey, hey!"

"¡Andá a cagar! And who are you? I was running _here_! You ran away and left your madre behind, and you want us to trust you? You think you deserve her trust?"

"Yamete—"

"Screw you too, man," Tye said, throwing Ed off, heedless of Virgil stumbling in between. "You don't know me! You have no idea what I've been through!"

Virgil suddenly felt his own rage erupt at their brainless display, and he had more than enough. Time to man up himself. He harshly shoved Tye backwards and threw a hand against Ed's chest, pushing them apart.

Just as Sam cried sharply, "Stop!"

She looked shocked, upset, but mostly sharing Virgil's anger. Her feminine demand seemed to reach the sparring boys faster, cutting them off like an icy slap in the face. Tye took a step away and Ed jerked himself free of Virgil's staying hand, putting his palms up to show he gave to the standoff, too. As soon as the outbreak of hurt emotions and challenging glares dissipated, a hollowness took over the room. Roughly, Ed threw his arms down, shook his head, and left.

"Ed!" Virgil called. "Aw hell. You two stay put."

As he ran after the Argentinean, Virgil heard Tye punch the wall in anger. He tried to tell himself this was a healthy team dynamic. After all, they were still young and new to each other's company. It was to be expected, right? However, he didn't want to fail them as the leader, and he needed to stay outside their emotions; he needed to keep a clear head. No matter how ticked off he was himself.

Outside in the brightening dawn hours, Virgil stopped at the U-junction of the building. If there were other guests at the motel, none were awakened by the brutish arguing. He hoped El Dorado hadn't teleported, because then he might not find him. Thankfully, he found him outside the office, hanging around the little patio area. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he was repeatedly knocking the nearby bench leg with one toe. But there was no effort in his blows, all his antagonism seemed depleted, his expression now lost and thoughtful.

"You okay, Ed?" He gave a vague nod. "You know Tye didn't mean none of that?"

"Doesn't matter," he muttered.

"No, it kinda does." Virgil sat down on the bench to face Eduardo. "Everyone's stressed and panicked, but we knew the Reach would be lookin' for us. It's not nobody's fault, bro."

Ed never looked at him, and even though his body language was easy, Virgil decided to give him a moment to sulk if he needed. So he sat there silently, staring at his sneakers and feeling the nipping coolness of the early morning. The air was fresh and moist after the storm, and the sound of a few crickets still lingered on, mingling with the happy sound of birdsong.

After awhile, Virgil said, "Ya know, man, I think it's cool how you keep tryin' to mend things with your Dad."

Ed Jr.'s brows lifted as if to ask: "Really?" But contrary to his brooding calm he baited, "Yelling and screaming is not mending things."

"But at least you're not givin' up. It's still tryin' in my book."

Unsure, unrelenting, Ed shrugged. He looked off to the roadway beyond the motel, and both teenagers watched a few random cars drift by, folks heading to their day jobs. The morning seemed so ordinary, and sometimes Virgil himself had trouble recalling the alien invasion happening just below the surface. It was tempting to forget, to go back to the ranks of everyday life going to an everyday job or school. But then he reminded himself of last night—and a normal day at school would be dangerous to all if the Reach came for him.

No, there was no giving up yet.

Breaking his reverie Ed said, "I need to do something. Will you let me go, el líder?"

Ed was still gazing at the road and Virgil felt a wave of doubt rush him. "Huh? Go where?"

"I want to go back."

"Back to the old base?" Eduardo finally looked at him and nodded. "Why?"

A slanted grin came to his face as he said, "Test a theory."

At the scientific term, a few notions came to Virgil's mind, getting the irony of his words, the semblance of Ed's father in the junior. "Well, I can't imagine it as being a suicidal run now, but—"

"If it's my fault we were tracked..."

As his voice trailed off, Virgil figured out what the subtle implication was in his request. After all, Virgil knew S.T.A.R. would be looking for them, too. He sighed. "You two hot-heads are gonna be the death of me. But you're not goin' alone, okay? I'm comin' with you."

Ed's grin became a smile.

* * *

><p>Tye couldn't hold back the wrathful burst and he felt the need to drive his fist into the wall as Virgil went after Eduardo. All of that anger, however, was directed at himself, the wall only the victim of the blow since he could not slug himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did his rage always get the better? The boiling heat in his gut somehow managed to shoot fire to his brain, causing him to go against his better judgment. Every damn time.<p>

He was so angry at the world—but it wasn't Ed's fault. Virgil was right, he knew it even then; it wasn't fair of him. But then... it wasn't fair of Ed to call him out on his inner guilt about his mother, either. Hearing someone else say it hurt more than his own secret condemnation.

Defeated, belittled, Tye sat down on the bedside and dropped his head into his hands with an inaudible curse. He didn't know many words in his people's language, but he did know the original meaning behind _Apache_. Enemy. It seemed he was destined to make an outcast of himself, struggling with the enemy he kept locked inside. Why couldn't he let go of that demon?

Not really aware he was speaking aloud, yet subconsciously remembering Sam was still in the room with him, he repented, "I... I couldn't, you know? Back there, when we were under attack, I couldn't conjure the Spirit to help. I was too angry, and it abandoned me." He wanted to be held accountable for that, but Sam didn't blame him. Even though his meta-power was stronger than theirs, he failed them. He said, to Sam, to the Spirit caged by his vengeful demon, "Sorry."

"Demo, _naifu_—" Stopping short, Asami hesitated with her words, and he knew she was braving to console him in English. "Knife cool. Tye-kun saved us."

Although her heartfelt statement softened his misery, a bitterness still pierced through. "You can thank my Grandpa for that. Tomahawk throwing competitions when I was eight." He snorted to himself, never thinking it would come in handy.

Talking about blades instantly brought all the aches and pains back to the forefront of his mind, and Tye leaned down to check his wound. Asami went into the bathroom and came back with a tiny emergency first aid kit as he pulled his hoodie over his head; he refused to strip completely in front of Sam, though. He took the white box with the red cross from her. "Thanks, I got it."

She wasn't hurt by his denial of her offer to help, slightly bowing in her customary way as she handed him the kit. Then she knelt on the floor in front of him, quietly watching, ready if he needed her. And, he guessed, allowing him room to reflect and cool off.

He knew the cut was too long for a mere band-aid, but the box had a packet of topical hemostatic powder which he used. As he dusted the white styptic against his side, there was no discomfort. "Yeah, see," he mumbled absentmindedly. "It's not even bleeding anymore. I'm fine."

Having something to do made all his rage drain away fast, and now Tye felt sullen and tired; the self-inflicted anger gave way to a rather depressed melancholy, a pang of regret stabbing him deeper than the Reach's lance had. And he was weary of fighting. He whispered, "I'm sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn't have said that—any of that, and I feel bad for yelling at Ed. I'm such a dumbass sometimes."

Asami lifted herself up on her knees and, very frankly, bopped him in the middle of the forehead with her index finger. Surprised, he looked her in the eyes, seeing a thoughtfully bemused light twinkling in them; a soft smile played on her lips. She shook her head in a delicate way to suggest he was being a silly boy, being too hard on himself.

"Brothers fight," she said. "No worry please."

He was grateful for her sympathy, her earnest understanding, but the feeling was more than that. Overwhelmed by her constant support, recalling how she had his back—and how she always seemed to want to be near him—a smile actually came to his face. And with a hand that shook just slightly, Tye reached out and slid his fingers behind her ear, pulling her to him. He gently placed his lips over hers.

It was hardly a kiss, but it was all he needed. Drawing away, he was satisfied she hadn't rejected him, her eyes closed and a bright color on her cheeks. With a deep sigh, remembering to breathe again, Tye leaned his forehead against hers.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Eduardo left the rushing void of his power and reappeared where his eyes locked, inside the alley down the block from the apartment complex. He had to zig-zag his teleportation route in order to stay hidden, but as he set his back to the wall and waited, he was certain no one had even seen his light. He leaned over to check the sidewalks beyond, just as Virgil and his manhole cover rose over the wall behind him.<p>

Setting down and cupping his hands to absorb the last of his electricity, Virgil asked quietly, "See anybody?" In reply, Ed flicked his head down the way.

It wasn't enough to draw out a large audience, but two police cruisers sat parked outside their former residence. No lights, no sires, and the officers were presumably taking reports inside. A few more cars than they remembered were parked around the entrance, blocking new arrivals, but otherwise there were only a couple of on-lookers. Even from where they stood the boys could see their bay window up on the high rise, an open socket with yellow police tape across.

"Bet it'll be chalked up as some kinda gang violence," Virgil said with contempt. "Pity I can't phone this one in to the local news..."

As his friend spoke, Ed saw someone come of the building—and he stifled a gasp. Virgil saw him, too, and even though he was not wearing the white lab coat both were so used to, they immediately recognized Dr. Dorado. Ed suddenly grew fidgety.

"Seems like your theory was correct, man." There was a nudging delight about the manner he spoke, and when he looked his way Ed saw the smile on Virgil's face.

"Yeah, but so was Tye's," Ed reminded, always the naysayer.

"Quit it, Ed. It was no one's fault the Reach found us. I'm still convinced it was my public outcry. Who's to say?"

Watching his father, the scientist tapping the screen of his smartphone, Eduardo Jr. swallowed down his urgent emotions, only to choke them back as a gulp. There was a rolling sense of flight shooting through him, having grown accustomed to running away from the man and his profession. He felt certain Eduardo Sr. was there on behalf of S.T.A.R., and that gave him misgivings. But it was still his father, and there was an eager, yet resentful, child still inside Ed who wanted to be needed. And again, he struggled with his decision.

Without warning, Virgil pushed him lightly on the back. "Go on," he said. "I already phoned up Tye and Sam and told them to wait, no matter how much time we took. But you don't have long 'til the cops start hassling folks for eyewitnesses. Go talk to him."

Twiddling his fingers nervously, Ed tried to draw strength from Virgil's encouraging support. The transfer didn't feel enough, but he nodded anyway. He took a breath, turned to face the complex, and teleported, emerging from the Zeta-beam just under the fire escape he'd climbed not too long ago.

His father was arbitrarily walking towards a car, stopping every step to work on his Internet-connected phone. Cautiously, Ed slipped along the wall of the building to wait for his Dad to get closer to the alley. Almost by an act of fate, Eduardo Sr. stopped a few feet away, sighing as he stowed the phone in his pocket. Though apparently lost in thought, he was still aware of the beckoning call.

"Oye, padre..."

Eduardo Jr. smirked when his father turned, watching the surprise widen his eyes; the man seemed to stop breathing. But suddenly he moved into the valley between the buildings, and Ed couldn't help but to step back, away from him. Understanding his desire for space, his father stopped and nodded. His dark eyes darted back to the sidewalk, to the main door of the complex, and a relieved gratitude washed over the son; his father was making sure the cops were not nearby, instead of calling them to restrain the runaway.

Keeping his voice low, the senior said, "Mi hijo, what are you doing here? Like this—" He fell into a hush of bafflement, waiting for the child to explain.

"I had to see for myself, I guess," said Ed. "The Reach came for us, after I spoke to you."

Eduardo Sr.'s face took on a dark look. "The Reach?"

"Sí. We are not safe being in one place for too long."

Grasping the heavy meaning in his words, his father's expression became a mix of worry, fear, and anger. And Ed's heart missed a beat, knowing full well his Dad was enraged by the unfairness of what the aliens were forcing the kids to do. He didn't like it, Ed Jr. knew, but still his father said, "You cannot keep running away—"

"I will," Ed said firmly, "if I have to, and you know it. I can do this, padre."

Even though he couldn't tell his father about what the Runaways were doing, how they intended to go head-to-head with the Reach if Lex Luthor deemed it necessary, he wanted him to understand the severity of their chosen mission. He wanted him to keep his distance. Remembering how Virgil refused to go home, Ed realized one of the methods to get to him might end up being through his father, and he didn't want to risk that. He couldn't risk the Reach, or Blue Beetle, hurting him. Running away got him—_them_—into this mess, but at the same time it could be the only saving grace.

"Por favor," he begged, "once in your life, listen to me?"

* * *

><p>Although he couldn't hear the father-son exchange, Virgil was at least glad to know there would be no yelling; Ed wouldn't be stubborn enough to get them caught, and thankfully his Dad seemed willing to comply. S.T.A.R. might require their test subjects back, but he felt certain Dr. Dorado wouldn't rat out his son.<p>

_Ed must be happy, _he hoped, _his Dad came looking for him._ He knew his friend wasn't keen on the idea of running forever, that he wanted a family. It was why he was quick to allow Ed to return. The kid needed this, something to call his own.

Patiently, warily, Virgil began watching the rest of the streets. It was only then, in the clarity of the moment, he noticed the video camera attached to the top of the intersection lights down the way. Of course! There could be another culprit.

As the two Eds continued to talk, Virgil casually walked the length of the sidewalk to the pole supporting the lights and CCTV system. To anyone else, it probably looked like he reached out to press the pedestrian crosswalk button; when in reality, Virgil shot electricity through the inner mechanics to fry the power. The red, yellow, and green lights blinked out, and he could hear the squeaking crackles of sparks inside the unit. Satisfied with the knowledge he could take out the surveillance cameras, Virgil was also irked with himself. He never realized this down-low, espionage stuff would be so randomly difficult; not once had he considered they'd be captured by the government's cameras monitoring the public traffic. Who knows what other ways the Reach had for watching their every move? _Guess I gotta start thinkin' like a conspiracy theorist..._

He started to turn back, oblivious to the defunct direction lights, since no cars were passing through, but a black sedan further down caught his attention when the driver's side door opened. The man who stepped out seemed to ignore him for a moment, lighting a cigarette. Nothing stood out as suspicious or dangerous—until he began walking towards Virgil, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Virgil Hawkins?"

_Wha-?! _Sucking back the gasp, his next reaction was cautious, and Virgil momentarily gazed at the man as if he were crazy; he glanced over his shoulder, looking for the "Virgil Hawkins" the stranger spoke to. Then he started walking away, stuffing his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. He hoped his body language suggested the man—a detective perhaps?—was mistaken.

Huffing out a puff of smoke, the man said, "Hold on, son."

Not wanting to put Eduardo and his father in jeopardy, knowing running wasn't going to help, Virgil stopped and said, "Sorry, sir. I think you got the wrong person."

"I don't think so."

"Look, I dunno who this Hawks guy is, or why a grown man would be accostin' a kid in broad daylight, but—"

And without warning the man sprang on him, pushing him up against the nearby wall and briskly jerking his hands behind his back. "Hey! What the hell, man?" He suddenly heard the metallic clink of handcuffs, felt the chilled metal slapped on his wrists. "You _arresting_ me? For _what_?"

"C'mon, don't give me any trouble," the man said, locking the circles in place and immediately dragging him off the wall, forcing Virgil to walk back to the car. "You know you're a wanted boy."

"I ain't a criminal, though!"

"Not yet." There was something devious in his voice, rather suggestive, but Virgil had no idea to what he was referring. Still thinking him a detective, Virgil didn't fight much; not that he'd win, given the man's all-around heft. He was shoved into the backseat of the unmarked car.

But before the man wrestled him down, he threw back his head to allow his baseball cap to fly off. Even though he suspected they'd drive down to the apartments, to join the police cruisers and S.T.A.R., Virgil felt the need to leave a message behind for Ed. Just in case.

The obvious outcome would be the man recognized him as a missing runaway from the news report and take him home to his family in Dakota City.

But as he was wrangled into the car, the door slamming shut, Virgil's heart dropped into his stomach, a sudden doomed panic rising. There was another boy already in the backseat, and he too jumped in nervous confusion when Virgil was thrown into the mix. Now it didn't seem right, the pieces didn't fit into the puzzle, which at first seemed so clear. But the picture was anything but. Inside, the vehicle was dark, the windows tinted black, and there was a barrier of glass and chains separating the passengers from the driver; appropriate for the police, and yet...

Yet it didn't feel right...

* * *

><p>"No, mi hijo. There was nothing to suggest the Reach implanted any devices into their subjects. You children were meticulously checked by our medical staff. All they had time to do was activate your meta-genes."<p>

"So any methods they use to track us now are just human ways?"

"Sí, like invading aliens do, use our technology against us."

Eduardo Jr. leaned his head back into the wall with a thoughtful frown. They would have to be much more careful from now on, he thought. They'd have to trust Lex Luthor's advice. And his next reflection was about how quickly _comfortable_ he grew talking to his father. It was by no means a casual conversation, their exchange heavy and fraught with dire implications, but Ed relaxed. Eduardo Sr. was more than ready to listen—and believe—his son's words, and he truly felt his Dad wanted to save him from his problems.

"If you must keep running," Eduardo Sr. said, "there really is not much I can do for you."

"I know."

His father fell silent, looking thoroughly displeased with the fact. Then, withdrawing his wallet, Ed watched him remove a business card. "S.T.A.R. is privately owned, mi hijo. We have no intimate relations with the government, and therefore the Reach has no access inside." A passing irritation wafted through the son, but Ed detected no trace of betrayal or urging; his father was merely stating a fact. "I am not telling you to come back, only suggesting you remember we are here to help."

Taking the pen from his breast pocket, Dr. Dorado turned the business card over and began writing on the blank backside. "This," he said, and there was an awkward, timid quality to his usually sure self. "This is my personal cell number, and the home phone. I want—I hope you call me, if you need me."

Offering it to his son, Eduardo Jr. took the slight bit of cardstock with a stunned appreciation. He stared at the numbers, scrolled in his father's weighted hand, feeling an indescribable connection within the digits. Such a simple thing, but it felt like the best gift his father had ever given him.

"Maybe," Dr. Dorado braved to add, "when this is over, you will come home?"

Now Ed lifted his shocked gaze to meet his father's eyes, and he saw a welcoming in them he hadn't known before. He realized what his Dad was asking; or rather, what he was finally willing to accept.

As Eduardo Jr. started to smile another voice suddenly carried to them, breaking the moment. It was an untailored, smooth voice with flat emotions, and Ed immediately recognized it. _Wilcox!_ He couldn't stop the old qualms taking over, an aggrieved darkening of his face.

But his father was professionally swift. Waving a hand at his son to retreat, he turned away to intercept Dr. David Wilcox before he could spot the runaway hidden in the alley. Again caught off guard by his Dad's actions, actually allowing him to escape, Ed quietly, slowly, pulled back.

"It seems your son was here, Doctor," Wilcox was saying in his passive way. "All the children were. But the police won't let me see the records, or allow us into the room. I doubt we'll get clearance, since this is not regarded a scientific affair. However, as a parent, they may allow you different privileges."

"It does not matter," Eduardo Sr. said with a certain discreetness. "My son is not here now, and if he is running we will not catch him. He _can_ _teleport_ after all."

Eduardo Jr. took the hint. And he vanished in light.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Second Horizon" by Fight the Fade. All copyrights reserved with no infringement intended.


	7. You Say I'm a Freak, I Say I am Free

**VII.**

**"I'd rather be a sinner than a slave.  
>I'd rather be an outcast than just bow down and obey."<strong>

Ed emerged from his teleportation light within the shadows of the alleyway across the street, watchfully certain Wilcox hadn't seen; both scientists got into the car and it drove off without hesitation. _When this is over,_ Ed mused to himself. Before, he hadn't any goals for life in America with superpowers. He'd been grateful to have friends and ready to follow their lead. But now, gripping his father's business card like a lifeline, he knew he had somewhere to go when the battle was done.

There was a newfound resolve, and it gave him confidence and purpose he didn't have before. He no longer felt like a lost kid. Pocketing the card, Ed smiled again.

Speaking of lost, he realized he had a block to travel back to Virgil, so he left the darkness before the cops started canvassing the neighborhood. His satisfied, laid-back demeanor changed after only a few steps. Ahead, the traffic light was down, two cars seeming to play chicken with each other at a snail's pace, nosing forward and wanting to be the first to cross. It wasn't an altogether abnormal scene, but something about the timing was eerily inevitable.

Coming to the separation between buildings where he'd left Virgil, Ed started when he found it empty. An internal warning bell sounded when his eyes fell on the abandoned manhole cover. _Where did you get to, hermano?_ And why?

Gazing back at the broken lights, wondering if Virgil were part of that vandalism, a familiar color caught his attention, a bit of blue wedged against the curb. He could sense panic building, yet still he did his best to appear idle and curious as he approached the intersection, stopping to retrieve the hat from the road.

"Ah mierda," he breathed, holding the cap by the bill. It was definitely Virgil's.

And suddenly there was a huge, whistling rush of air behind him, an instantaneous _crash!_ of crumpled metal—like a bullhorn capturing the sound of a can being crushed. Jumping, Eduardo instinctively ducked, then spun to face the action.

The neighborhood was alive with the cries of car alarms going off, dogs alerted and barking, and the dying vibrations of the impact. Ed's mouth dropped at the sight...

The sight of Virgil's manhole cover buried in the side of one of the police cruisers.

Empty, thank goodness, but the authority vehicle was thrown into the apartment complex, the passenger side compressed and bent in. There was a trailing fracture in the road. Dust from the wounded building and steam from the crushed car hung low, making the scene look like something from an apocalypse film.

Forcing himself to breathe, shaking free of his mortified stupor, Eduardo bolted back to the alley. He wondered what the hell was wrong with Virgil—

But still Virgil was not there.

Whipping around, Ed was vaguely conscious of an electric-like crackle around the cover embedded in the car. If not Virgil...? At the moment it didn't matter. The cops were barreling out of the building, along with spectators en mass. Eduardo knew he had to split.

* * *

><p><em>Why didn't you kiss him back? Baka, baka!<em>

Lying on her stomach, facing the opposite end of the bed, Asami scolded herself one more time. She didn't have anything else to do, really. Except reflect on Tye's benign kiss. She hadn't expected it, but it made her melt all the same. The touch of his lips, the warmth of his skin. In the moment, she didn't want to take control or come on too strong, feeling suddenly unsure and shy. And after all, the boy was... how did Virgil put it? Beat down. It probably was not a good time.

But she was excited by his grateful desire. At least she knew how he felt. Looking over her shoulder towards the other bed, she smiled as she watched Tye sleep. He was dead to the world, definitely weakened after the Reach attack; and if he was deep asleep the Spirit would not rise. He needed to rest.

So she remained vigilant, even though he said they'd take turns. She would stay up a week straight just to be sure he was okay. Besides, she liked watching him breathe, it somehow gave her comfort. Because otherwise she was finding it too hard to sit still and focus, and not only due to the kiss.

She was worried about Eduardo. She didn't know what spurred the quarrel before, but Ed had gotten abruptly upset. There was something involving his father, but... Sam didn't want to think too highly of herself, but she felt it also had something to do with her; she could see it in his eyes. Hopefully, she could make amends for whatever was hounding Ed, even if she wished she noticed it—and fixed it—sooner.

_Sou, Asami no baka. _She mouthed aloud, "Sam is stupid."

Now, as the day lengthened and evening threatened to come on, Asami was also growing worried about Virgil. Why were they both gone so long? What she got from his explanation: they were going to spy on the previous flat and see if Ed's father traced the call. But then they shouldn't have stayed very long. A long time and they might get caught by S.T.A.R. again.

Her cell phone sat on the bed in front of her. With a pleading look, she willed it to ring. _Call, please!_

When it didn't answer her concern, she sighed, sitting up into a cross-legged position. Reaching into her pocket, she brought out her dividend of Luthor's cash. Thanks to Tye she could recognize all the bills and coins, and finding small enough currency, she decided to hit up the vending machines for dinner. As quietly as she could, Asami pulled on her sneakers at the door and tip-toed out.

The long hours of the daylight were warm and muggy, and she could smell moisture on the air; it was probably going to rain again later. Finding the machines, she was only certain of the staple name brand snacks, so she chose those without much gusto. America sure did enjoy their salt blocks and sugar bombs, a little too heavy-handed for her unaccustomed palate. Maybe when they stopped running she'd be able to find an Asian market; maybe Tye knew of one.

As she turned to the water bottle unit, Sam's gaze just happened to flick up, and in her peripheral vision she caught movement beyond.

It was a glint of light against the filtering sun, moving fast over the awning above the office door. She couldn't help but shudder; her brain registered the movement rather insect-like. She felt like she'd just seen a giant spider. She wanted to snicker at herself, knowing that was impossible—yet somehow she couldn't; she only shuddered again.

Goaded to hurry by the uncomfortable sensation, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing up against goose-bumps, she shot coins in and received one bottle in the blink of an eye. But as she took hold of the bottle, her spooked speed ebbed. She idly began tipping quarters in for the second bottle, but her motion stalled; her eyes fixed on the office door. The feeling of mysterious disgust became intrigue. What had run across the roof? If anything at all.

The day had been silent. She knew by the scant scattering of cars in the lot there were hardly any other guests at the motel. There were no attendants about, but the office door was wide open. Without really meaning to, Asami started walking towards the lobby. She could hear voices from inside, instantly recognizing it as a TV. Light spilled out across the pavement.

Stepping over the threshold, she announced softly, "Ojamashimasu. Excuse me?"

She gasped when she came into the room.

The television set which used to be behind the counter was now on the floor, turned on and too loud for any normal ears to be watching it. There were papers everywhere. The desk lamp had fallen, its base broken, yet the exposed bulb still blindingly lit. The carpet beneath was torn in small rivulets, like a railroad spike had been drug across the fibers. The mess, however, was not what elicited the gasp.

All over the walls, scrolled in red paint, were the taunting words: FIGHT THE REACH.

The snacks fell from her limp arms. Something _was_ there! Whatever had been after them that night of destruction, it was here with them now.

Wheeling around, not wanting to be found, even by the motel staff, Asami ran back to their room. As she slid to a stop and began fumbling with the key, she heard it—

Metallic scrapping, the robotic pulsing of well-oiled gears moving.

But what she saw down the row of doors and windows—coming from beyond the U-junction with the primary body hidden entirely from her sight—was one long, huge, steel spider's leg.

Choking back a cry, she rammed the key in, twisted it, and thankfully felt the doorknob give. Sam almost fell inside just as another massive, spindly leg tweaked out along the sidewalk. Walking, coming for her.

Shutting the door, she immediately threw all the locks. Her mind rapidly fired English words at her, incoherently; she didn't know how to explain to Tye. But she called for him, falling back into a frantic Japanese. "Tye-kun, taihen!" He came awake instantly. "Sono, aete iimasuga—omoimasu—"

"Sam?" Tye swung his legs over the bedside, an expression of worry and confusion on his face. "Slow down. What's going on?"

"Eeto... imi—Mean, I outside," she fumbled with the words. "Outside trouble."

He asked sharply, "The Reach?" Taking on a serious look, he got to his feet, battle ready.

Asami both firmly shook her head and gave a contradictory shrug. Tye came over to her, laying a soothing hand on her arm. Then he went to the door.

"Yabai hashi wa wataritakunai yo!"

"_Shh_, don't worry," he shushed.

He set his body at an angle inside the swing of the entrance. Sam followed his lead, taking up position on the other side of the doorway, her back to the wall, both of them shielded. Unbolting the locks, Tye pulled open the door little by little, giving him cautious room to see beyond. When they were met with no surprises and seeing nobody beyond, he dared to go out.

"I don't see anything." As Asami stepped out into the diminishing rays of sunlight, she, too, saw not a sign of... whatever it was. Tye escorted her back inside, saying fretfully, "But it's getting late. What happened?"

"Saw... Went outside, and..." She tried working out a clearer English explanation—

When the phone rang.

Not her cell phone on the mattress, but the motel phone sitting inconspicuously between the beds on the nightstand.

When Tye realized where the echoing ring was coming from he frowned, on alert again. "Who the hell would be calling us here?"

Asami slowly walked towards the phone but Tye put a hand out to caution her. "We're not using landlines, so it's not Virgil or Ed," he said. "It's probably just a wrong number, but..."

They both stared at the phone as if it were the harbinger of the Reach. Sam suddenly forgot how to breathe, swallowing down a hard gulp. Was it the _thing _outside? She wrung her hands together. The need to answer a ringing phone, but not wanting to out of fear of bad news, was making her antsy and frightfully rushed. There was always a time limit with answering phones, yet this one kept rattling with repeated jingles, begging to be put out of its misery.

"I dunno," Tye whispered.

Their eyes met for a second, questioning, daring. But finally, Asami reached out and lifted the phone off its cradle. The boisterous, imploring sound ended. Warily, like the mundane item would betray her and reveal something more evil, she set the speaker to her ear. "Moshi moshi?"

Nothing.

"Hello?"

For just a brief moment, Sam thought she heard the sound of a child's quiet giggle, but it became nothing but a soft static over the line. Then it was dead again. She waited for the person on the other end to hang up, but the sound was devastatingly blank. There remained nothing but a hollow silence between the connection. So Sam carefully set the phone back down, disconnecting.

Suddenly, a chime resonated from her cell phone and they both jumped.

"Jesus!" Tye shook out his hands as if fending off the shock. He moved to answer the chimes of the text notification, grumbling, "Why are we so jumpy?"

_She_ knew why. But before she could offer an answer, she was silenced when she saw the text message over his shoulder.

It read: _Luthor. Reconnect._

Immediately, Tye retrieved the laptop and lifted the screen. He sat down on the bed, keeping the computer on his lap as he opened the video channel. Asami, however, went to the large window and tilted back the end of the drapes. There was no one beyond, no human and no creature on the hunt still after her. She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps, like the other night before, it was merely a brief interlude. Like a warning?

"I trust you managed to elude the hunters?" She heard Lex Luthor ask. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorta."

Maintaining her watch by the window, Asami wasn't so sure they _were_ all of them alright.

"First order of business, I looked into the prospects you set forth and I am afraid I have no solid leads. But—and I shan't go into explicit details for your own sakes—there is a rumor that your existences have been circulated through the underground."

"Underground?" Tye guffawed. "Is this like a mystery novel? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Not quite as mysterious as you imagine," said Luthor. "When you think of the criminal underworld like an ordinary corporation, something which functions like a business, you must consider there are also circulars with, shall we say, help wanted ads." There was no seriousness, nor humor, in his voice, and he flatly gave out vague niceties like a teacher might, trying to explain bold information to someone too young to understand. "There's been a notice of four new meta-humans on the home front, thus bringing your team to the attention of other interested parties."

"Interested parties?"

"And thereby making you targets for bounty hunters."

"D'ah, great." Bounty hunting was a concept Tye got full force, but Sam was still trying to keep up with their conversation. "Are we in danger?"

"Of course. But you knew that from the beginning, did you not?"

"The Reach and S.T.A.R. are one thing, but bounty hunters, dude? And what will these people do if they catch us?"

"I hope we never have to find out."

Tye met Asami's eyes and she saw the urgency in his gaze. Whatever their words meant, she knew it was bad news.

"Now, I do need to ask where the others are."

Tye arched a brow at the screen, his expression leery. "Sam's here," was all he replied.

"Well, I suggest you all remain together. In the event you should be separated, your phones contain tracking devices." When Tye's mouth shot open, Luthor cut him off. "They are not bugs, nor are they for my benefit. I do not hold the tracker, for obvious reasons. It's the remote unit I gave you; you'll find it with the other communication tech."

"Way to plan ahead."

"I always think in advance, Tye. The future is an unpredictable foe. For now gather your team, and tomorrow meet Mercy at this address." _Adoresu?_ Asami was certain a map had been offered up. "She will take you to the new safehouse."

"Roger that."

Luthor sighed at the snarky comeback. "Do be careful, children. This isn't like the movies. If you're caught, there will likely be no happy ending."

"Who believes in happy endings?" And with that bit of angry tragedy, Tye ended the video chat. He was bothered by the exchange, and it made Sam's stomach knot. He said heavily, "We need to find Virgil and Ed, before it's too late."

* * *

><p>"Where are you takin' me?"<p>

Virgil wriggled against the seat, trying to feel out the handcuffs securing his wrists. If he could generate enough electricity into the lock he could probably bust it open. But he was worried about the light being seen by the man sitting in the front seat; he kept eyeballing him via the rear-view mirror.

"Just shut up, kid," he replied with a thick glare and a cruelty in his voice not present before. "You're going home." He grinned nastily.

In fact, the car had not turned around; they had not gone to regroup with the police and S.T.A.R. scientists at the old base. Yet somehow Virgil knew he was _not_ a runaway being transported back home. This wasn't a helping hand. He also didn't receive any Miranda rights, and he definitely didn't get any phone call or reach out. No, Virgil knew it plainly: he was in danger.

But that also begged the question regarding the boy seated next to him. The skinny little black teenager sat stiffly, and by his erect spine and hands gripping his knees, Virgil could tell he was afraid of the driver's authority. He never looked at Virgil, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and he wasn't even handcuffed or wearing a seatbelt; fear of the unknown kept him in check. Maybe another runaway?

Feeling sorry for him, and a sense of rebellion about being caught and caged, Virgil realized it didn't matter who this man was, or why he was collecting runaway teens. Because they were going to escape.

Leaning his shoulders back, he began gently building his energy, letting his power trickle into his cupped hands. Thin, fine splinters of electricity pooled in his palms, danced along his fingers, and he directed them against the metal cuffs. It was hard in such a position, while trying to shield his efforts from the driver's prying eyes. Virgil decided to ham it up as a distraction.

"So what's goin' on here, huh? Are you a cop for real?"

He saw the man grin into the rearview again. "Used to be."

There it was, trouble for sure. "Used to be? What happened, man? Get caught abusin' your power, molestin' young boys? Is this how you get your jollies?"

The other teen gasped in disgust and dread.

"Kid, I told you to shut the hell up," the man muttered darkly. There was a flickering sound of pride in his tone, given offense. At least they could relax about that final bit.

"Hey, I ain't dumb, man. You know my name, but I know we're _not_ headin' to Dakota City."

"Well now, that depends."

"On what?"

"Who pays the most." The evil grin returned.

"Ah ha, so you _are_ kidnappin' us! That's low, dude." The other boy finally turned towards Virgil, and he was sure the eyes were asking whether or not he was crazy. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but my folks ain't rich."

"Too bad for you."

"So then what, huh?"

"I go to the other _who_. Now zip it, junior."

"Blood is thicker than water, man. No one would wanna give you more than a parent."

Now it was the man's turn to catch Virgil off his guard. "S.T.A.R. might back them."

_Oh crap. He knows I'm from the labs, too. That means he also knows I have meta-powers. _Even if that were true, the man obviously didn't realize what his superpowers were, because he had done nothing to prevent his electrokinesis. And now Virgil had conducted enough miniscule volts into the metal to heat the circles, and he could hear the tinny whining from the lock mechanics. Any minute...

"S.T.A.R. isn't like that." As he kept at it, irking the man, misdirecting his eyes, Virgil also realized what the man's statement implied. "And if you're lumpin' them with my family, then there's still that other _who_, huh?" There was no response. "Huh?"

"Alright, son, that's enough chatter—"

Virgil heard the click of the lock breaking, the cuffs popping opened.

"—shut the fuck up before I—"

Free, Virgil threw his arms forward, unleashing the full force of his electrical currents. The branching streaks struck down the barrier between them, now a brilliant light show of blue charges surging towards the dashboard. The man cursed loudly as the lightning destroyed the systems of the car, sending it reeling out of control.

Virgil slammed his hands into the roof, bringing his energy up, lifting the car off of its wheels. The pounding voltage lurched the vehicle from the road, crashing headlong into a building. Before the impact, Virgil pulled the power around himself and the other boy, creating a spinning orb of electricity to try and shield them. The man's head banged into the steering wheel when they hit the wall.

Stunned by the collision, Virgil couldn't maintain his focus, breaking the current. The shield fell as the car came to a bent, broken landing on the sidewalk. Both boys bounced around the backseat until everything settled in a rush of silence. Virgil's ears were ringing, his heart thrumming fast, but he was conscious. After a time, he also knew he was fine.

And so was the ex-cop, who gave a groan, coming around. They didn't have much time. "Hey man, you okay?" He grabbed the boy's arm.

"Okay?" he gasped incredulously, his voice high. "What happened?"

He righted himself, and Virgil could see he was rattled but uninjured. "No time to explain. C'mon, dude, we gotta fly!"

"Fly? You want me to fly? Dawg, I'm _blind_!" The boy pulled off his shades then, showing his pale colored irises and staring gaze.

Virgil's heart fell, feeling even more sorry for the kid. "I'll help, don't worry."

It took several kicks to get the door ajar, but as soon as he had enough space to get a grip Virgil forced it wide. He leaped outside, weaving off balance for a second, then reached back in to take the blind boy's hand. As soon as he was free of the wreck Virgil took his elbow and, already breathless, urged him to run for the cover of the back alleys.

He was aware it would be difficult for the other to rush through the maze, but they needed the shadows. Already people were gathering around the accident site, and he had to plow through some well-meaning pedestrians; they couldn't afford to be stalled, and he couldn't risk accepting a stranger's support right now.

They raced when the lanes were clear, but when the path began cutting through backyards and businesses, Virgil had to tread carefully. He didn't want to mindlessly pull along the kid, tripping over storage and garbage. Somehow he managed to guide them to the rear parking lot of a tall apartment building, and Virgil decided to find a hiding spot; his new acquaintance was wheezing heavily, not used to over-exerting himself.

He found the stairs which lead to the laundry area, where seats and a soda machine waited, making it a rather ideal pit stop. It was also presently deserted; they had some time. Panting, he let the boy feel out a plastic chair before helping him down. Then Virgil went to the machine, pumping his electricity inside to retrieve a soda, grateful this vending unit was not the Reach's brand.

"What was that?" the boy asked. "I heard that noise back there, when we crashed."

"Umm, it was me," Virgil said, unsure of how much he should explain.

"What're you doing? Sounds like electricity buzzing."

"Yeah, I'm, uh, finaglin' the devices." As if to further elucidate, he pressed the cold can into the other's hand.

"Uh-huh." The voice was full of confusion, but also a vague humor. "Well, thanks for the soda. And thanks for the rescue."

"Don't mention it." Virgil sat down next to him, allowing a quiet moment to pass so they could catch their breath. He watched the teen glide his fingers over the can lid, and when he popped the soda top Virgil actually jumped; his stress was still high.

Sensing it, the other grinned apologetically. "Sorry. Don't know my own strength sometimes. Guess my nerves are spooking my disability into overcompensating."

"It's okay," Virgil said. "But we can't let our guards down just yet." Reflecting, he dared to ask, "So why did that guy nab you?"

"Damned if I know."

"You don't—" He fought it slightly, wondering if exposing himself was a good idea. "You don't have a meta-gene? No superpowers?"

The boy almost choked on his soda, barking a laugh. "Superpowers? Did I mention I was blind?"

Virgil ran his hands through his hair, irritated with the reasoning. It didn't make any sense. That man had known about S.T.A.R. and his parents, so Virgil was certain it would all come back to his meta-powers. He was sure the other party mentioned would be the Reach. "Are you a runaway?"

"Not really. I mean, I always go back. Nothing else I can do, you know?"

"Go back where?"

"I stay at the local halfway house. I was heading home when that man got up in my face, but I dunno why he grabbed me. I was too shocked and scared to ask." Another silence ensued before he said, "Anyway, if you can find me something to use like a cane and lead me back to the main road, I can get back home fine by myself."

"Whoa, no," Virgil urged. "Can't do that, man. He'll be lookin' for us, and the main road is a dead giveaway."

"Listen, dawg, I don't know your story but I don't expect you to babysit me. I'm okay, really."

"Seriously, it's no big thing," Virgil insisted.

He offered a reassuring smile, forgetting it couldn't be seen. There was no way he'd leave the boy to fend for himself, and it had nothing to do with his eyesight. The unexpected affair bonded them in an odd obligatory style, and it wouldn't be very hero-ly of him, not after all the treachery and threats.

He felt sure of the danger, and he wanted this kid to make it home safely. Besides, he knew once Ed found his ball cap, he'd return to Tye and Sam, and they'd all be looking for him. Who was out there to help his new friend? Likely nobody.

"I don't leave a man behind. I can help," Virgil continued with a sense of proud courage. "We'll stick to the back way and get you home A-sap. Deal, bro?"

The boy smiled, baring his teeth in a rather lupine expression of pleasure. "My name's Seymour." He extended his hand into the vicinity nearby.

He took the gesture sincerely. "Virgil."

"Deal, Virgil."

* * *

><p>Moving deeper into the laneway, Eduardo locked his eyes over the brick partition and teleported to the air above, since his view beyond was screened. He dropped the couple feet to the ground among trash bins and recyclable boxes. Fisting the baseball cap in his hand, Ed quickly weaved through the back paths, a dank, dirty maze of walkways, tunnels, and chain-link fencing. When he was certain he'd put enough distance between himself and the police, he stopped.<p>

Gathering his thoughts, Ed stuffed the cap into a cargo pocket on his leg and retrieved his cell. If Virgil didn't answer, he'd have to pick his route more carefully; he'd need to get back to the main drag—get back to Tye and Sam.

As he dialed, the phone made an odd buzzing sound. Then it gave a digital scream—and self-destructed in a spasm of pinkish sparks.

Ed yelped and dropped it, letting the device snap apart on the slimy pavement.

And a soft, girlish giggle echoed through the maze, ghost-like and playful.

"Oh, that's too bad," a smooth feminine voice crooned. It was hushed, a girl confident and proud of herself, not needing to raise her tone to demand attention. "I think you broke it."

Turning, Eduardo finally saw her, sitting casually on the lowest platform of the nearby fire escape. Slender legs encased in purple-and-black striped leggings dangled over the edge, her feet weighted by giant platform boots. Although her face might have been pretty, her skin had the color of death and her hair was fake pink, half her scalp exposed in a buzz cut. Even under the shadows of the buildings her Cheshire Cat grin was vibrant. But despite the brilliant smile, her eyes were dark and serious.

This Goth-girl was obvious trouble. And she was excited by that.

"_Tch_," Ed sniffed with forced disregard. He lied, "¿Eh... perdón? No hablo Inglés, lo siento." He shrugged in a suggestion of helplessness, and deliberately walked away from her, thinking it best to gain ground, get away. This wasn't the time nor the place, his back literally to walls. If he was walled in, he could not teleport.

She laughed again, under her breath. And then she sang: "Step on a _crack_, break your mother's _back_~"

Eduardo froze. A familiar shiver passed over him, the memory of the other night...

"But you don't have a mother, do you? Just some Daddy issues, I see."

It was the same—it was exactly the same as before. The suffocating wave of a slowly encroaching doom, prowling for him through a cut-off tunnel. Ed's throat constricted and a weight fell on his chest. As he faced her again, he braved to remind himself it was still daylight, not the haunting hours of the night. And now that he saw the menace plainly, he was positive he could take the slight girl if need be.

So he stood just as proud and able before her, his head high and wearing a challenging glare. It seemed to please her, and she lifted herself to her feet.

"Then how does it go in that case? Let me think... Mm, yes, I remember now: Step on a crack and break your father's _neck_."

He moved towards her, angered by the threat. Unexpectedly, an arcane light lit her eyes and she snapped her fingers—

And the platform's support bars broke in violet sparks, dropping the base to the ground with a hollow, clamorous rumble.

Ed jumped free of the buckling scaffolds, but the girl easily rode the platform down, falling gently to land on her high-cushioned feet. She cart-wheeled off, as if foretelling where each piece of wreckage would fall. When she righted herself, her eyes lit again and a lance of pink-tinted power erupted the cement ground, running a vast crack towards Ed. He side-stepped, eyes seeking an out for his teleportation; but she shot another bolt the opposite way, churning the laneway, barring his escape—while displaying her worthy skills. And her powers.

With a light-as-air back flip and a flutter of her bat-wing dress, she covered the distance between them, even as Ed backed off warily. To his surprise, she stopped away, giving him a gap of personal room. Her pink, cat-like eyes watched him with an intrigued sharpness. She leaned forward and grinned, but it only enforced his fighting stance.

"Jinxed," she declared. There was an astuteness to her voice which he didn't get. "I did warn you."

"Warn?"

"Oh, look who suddenly learned English."

_Puta loca._ "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything. I'm just a herald." Ed's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "_You_ want something, though. We can take you to him."

Suddenly, Eduardo felt an incredible cold waft from the wall behind him, and an icy grip materialized out of nothing. It happened too fast. The last thing he remembered was hearing the whip-snap of a cloak, saw ebony wings encircle him. It was as if a black hole ripped wide in the space at his back, swallowing him down.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Love the Way You Hate Me" by LIKE A STORM. All copyrights reserved with no infringement intended.


	8. And Then You Hand Me a Smokin' Gun

**VIII.**

**"Time—darkness and the light!  
><strong>**It gets too dark and we can't find the way home.  
><strong>**Too tight and we can't seem to let go.  
><strong>**No reason, no right or wrong, only shadows to balance on."**

It was growing dark by the time Virgil followed Seymour's final directions, based on his guiding "visual feels". As they got closer to his homestead the way became increasingly easy—and gradually more deserted. The last turn brought them into a cul-de-sac, and at first it appeared to be the local projects, an expanse of split units and row homes all similarly built.

But every single one was in dire need of repairs, and as Virgil inspected the residences, he could see they were all abandoned. There were boards across broken windows, old gang graffiti, and yards overgrown with brambles and weeds. This run-down section was State-owned and ready for demolition. _Probably gonna be a future high-end condo development,_ he reckoned.

However, he was confused as to why Seymour's halfway house would be located here, within such a ruinous lot. Unless the place was... less than respectable. Virgil's heart sank deeper in pity. As they walked along the empty roadway, moving further into the dead-end street, Virgil wondered if he ought to offer him a place among his Runaway Team instead.

As he began to formulate an appropriate suggestion, he saw a taller building loom up behind the row homes. Bigger than any of the other constructions, it also rose into steeples of a more grander design, subjugating the rest of the Western, urban style models. It looked altogether unwelcoming.

"What is that?" he voiced without thinking.

"You'll have to be more specific," Seymour said with good-humor.

"There's this huge building behind the homes here. Looks kinda like a—"

"An old church?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"That's where I'm staying."

Virgil felt his sunken heart reach the pit of his stomach, tying it into knots. Why did he grow suddenly nervous? _It's only an updated church, they remodel 'em all the time._ Yet the site gave him chills, and he could only compare it to the Bates Motel.

At the uncanny thought, and how long their trek had actually taken, he remembered his friends waiting on him. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Virgil brought out his cell phone, only to have it unable to find a signal. Well, they _were_ buried inside a tunnel of dead houses, so hopefully along the outskirts of the halfway house he'd get better reception.

Seymour released his arm then, and Virgil could see him mouthing numbers, counting his steps. Finally he proclaimed, "Over this way. It's a shortcut."

And without waiting, Seymour turned into a tight alley, a mere walkway between two nondescript, worn-out buildings. The blind boy held out a hand to touch one wall, walking swiftly, sure-footed. Virgil found a sense of ease at that; it meant Seymour was used to this hike, heading home. Breathing a sigh of relief, yet gaining no calm from it, Virgil followed him.

The lane sloped downwards into several cement stairs and led into what was once a back garden. Now it was nothing but a fence-line flat on the ground, churned up earth, and trash waiting years for removal. Virgil found his pace slowing as he eyeballed the decrepit state, turning around to look at the molding wood of the homes' back porches and torn screen doors. He shuddered, feeling abruptly cold and lonely. But Seymour...

Seymour seemed glad to be back home, already on the other side of the yard and on a rear street beyond. Virgil had to run after him to keep up. He stuffed his hands and phone back into his pockets, lifting his face up to the approaching church-like readjustment center.

It didn't look any better off than the project homes surrounding it.

At one time, the exterior might have had an old Spanish Baroque design, but it had withered away to blackened stones and wood. The façade had been reformed into a remedial bit of architecture, looking less like a church and more like a hospital, flat and professional. It still had the typical church floor plan, rectangular units overlapped to shape a cross by aerial view. But there was a great porch wrapping around the front rise, and Virgil could believe it to be a halfway house or orphanage. But was it now? It was dark inside, unkempt outside.

"So," Virgil asked, not out of curiosity but out of concern, "do you stay here with your parents?"

"Nah, dawg," Seymour said. His voice sounded stronger, more confident than before. "I left them behind years ago. This is just a stopping place for now, the midpoint of a journey. Not all halfway houses are for rehabs."

_He is a runaway, one of us... _Oddly, Virgil felt no comfort from the likeness. Only a gnawing sense of cagey bewilderment. He looked up past the steeple, his eyes tracing the line of the spire into the sky above. It was overcast again.

Getting the phone out, it still had no service bars. "Damn, man. My cell won't work here."

"Welcome to the boonies," Seymour laughed. He seemed in quite better spirits.

"I need to call my friends, let 'em know I'm okay. Plus, I need a taxi back—looks like it's gonna rain again." There was an awkward sense to his swift statements, and he hoped he didn't come off rude; but he quickly wanted to make arrangements to leave. Something... once more something didn't feel right.

"Well, come inside then."

"You got a phone?"

"Of course. What do you think this is? Arkham or somethin'?"

Seymour extended his hand again, letting his fingers thrum against the bent railings of the perimeter fence; they were almost there.

So Virgil reluctantly said, "Okay, sure."

* * *

><p>There were overlaying thunderheads in the sky by the time Tye and Asami made it back to their old base. Or tried to. They were stopped a block away by a broken traffic light under repairs, a cop hailing cars to find a detour. And beyond, more police and construction workers were barring off the apartment complex. They couldn't tell what exactly happened, but the front of the building was caved in around the street-facing door.<p>

"What the heck?" Tye breathed; Sam could only stare at the small scene of chaos.

It was a bad sign, Tye knew. But he also knew the wreckage would have nothing to do with S.T.A.R., or the Reach, both quiet kidnappers. He was sure bounty hunters weren't into property damage, either; he'd seen enough cop shows to know they were more gun-ho at getting their man, even if it meant physical and personal injury, but this—this was altogether different. It was ominous.

He gazed down on the tracking device from Luthor; it only registered two signals. Of course his tracker he had destroyed himself. But then, what happened to either of the phones held by Virgil or Ed? Sam's phone obviously followed their own hike, and as they neared the very site they fled before, the other signal circled back and headed outside of town.

"Yeah, I can't tell where he's going," he muttered to Sam. Zooming in on the bird's eye view of the satellite map, the G.P.S. told him it was a housing district, a dead end. "_Why_ he's going there." Or even which _he_ it was following.

"They not here," Asami said. She rocked her skateboard back and forth, wanting to keep moving.

Tye nodded. Even if they had been here, they'd since run. And if perhaps Virgil and Ed had been responsible for this vandalism, it was during another fight. No, it wasn't looking good.

"I hope okay."

"We can only hope they're still together. Come on, let's go after that signal, and fast."

* * *

><p>It was cold. For awhile, the icy sensation was all his brain could register. His body was shivering, and his fingers and lips felt numb. Coming back to himself, Eduardo took a quaking breath, his teeth chattering, and he exhaled deeply. No frost touched the air. So <em>this<em> place wasn't cold.

What happened? And where was he?

He remembered the pink-haired Goth, and her statement of "we". She hadn't been alone. And he recalled his back had been to a wall, but that wall suddenly opened up into... what exactly? Empty space? Another dimension? His mind couldn't offer him a solid explanation.

But he did know he was no longer in that alleyway. It was dark here, but it was not nighttime and it was not the outdoors. He could feel the enclosure, the atmosphere of a closed-off box. It was an unlit room. The air was stifling, weighted by years of unchecked dust and mildew, and even though it wasn't as frigid, it was unheated and altogether inhospitable.

Finally, warmth reached his bones again and his nerves revived. Ed slowly rose to his feet. Squinting against the dim view, he touched the wall behind him, gauging his surroundings. Bits of peeling paint and cracked cement crumbled off under his fingers. Turning around, he found a mere slit of a window near the ceiling behind him. At one time, the outside pane had been covered over with paint, but years of weather had chipped parts of it away. Scant light filtered through, barely helping his eyes. As he approached it, he instantly knew he was in a basement; the window was at the outside ground level, the room itself subterranean.

Buried some feet down, Ed would have to take a running jump to reach the window. However, there was no ledge to grab, and he could already tell there wouldn't be enough open view to see outside, not enough for him to teleport. Well anyway, it was just a basement. There'd be stairs up into the building, a way out. He hoped.

Treading cautiously through the dank darkness, he started looking for the staircase, which often times came down through the center. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the basement was huge and portioned off. Even if this level ran the entire length of the upper part, he knew the building overall was enormous.

Ed finally stumbled into the arching rise of a staircase. He dashed up towards the higher levels, coming into an empty pantry. Judging by the scope, this wasn't an ordinary home, the kitchen meant for feeding a mass. But the door was locked. _Of course,_ he chided himself. He tried the light-switch without aim, not surprised when the dead house gave him no electricity.

"Where's Virgil when you need him?" he mumbled. And he _really_ needed him about now. How was he going to get out? "La puta madre."

Why did that weird girl bring him here in the first place, only to leave him alone? Was he a prisoner?

He tried to keep his wits and ponder the options. Being alone wasn't new to him, but he loathed losing his freedom. Again. Neither was the peculiarity of his situation lost on him, nor its danger. And in the back of his mind, Ed held onto another thought—the idea he had to hurry and warn the others. Because someone was surely watching, surely after all of them.

Deciding to test his luck by announcing his arrival to whomever might be beyond the locked pantry, he set his shoulder against the doorjamb, above the knob. _Time to do this the old-fashioned way._ Through battering the door down.

Throwing his slight weight into the frame, Eduardo was barely conscious of the thudding pain, trying so hard to force the lock free. Each time he thought he felt it give, just slightly, as the door buckled against the hinges. Pulling back, he braced himself and began kicking with the weight of his combat boots.

Then, in the midst of the banging and sweat, he felt it again. An upward draft from below—and it was a frigid, testy slap. He halted his attacks, catching his breath to listen.

_We can take you to him,_ she had said. Who was _we_?

"Back again, Diablo?" he whispered to that icy air.

Ed was angry now, the rage building inside him, and it spurred him away from the task at hand. He was ready for a confrontation. Several steps back down into the darkness, Ed called, "Come on, show yourself. I've had enough of this escondite."

And behind him, the door creaked opened...

* * *

><p>Instead of going in the front door, Seymour went around the side, following the flow of the wrapping porch. Virgil trailed behind, feeling more unsure of the environment with every step he took. He wanted to give his new companion the benefit of the doubt, yet even as he watched Seymour tap on the side of the building, listening for the hollowness of a side door, Virgil knew the place was empty. Seymour probably did stay here, but that meant he was a homeless runaway.<p>

It was sad.

To the point of seeming almost preconceived.

Muttering a wordless sound of confirmation, Seymour found the door he sought, opening the unlocked entrance easily. "Here we go," he announced, leading Virgil inside the semitransept.

It was a long, doorless hallway, and the windows had been reinforced with clear tarps, obscuring the scenery outside. Though the daylight was dwindling fast, Virgil could still see the dust hanging in the air, covering the once-polished wood floors like inches of dirty snow. Behind him he saw the crossing junction. Back in the church's prime it would have lead into the vaulted space of the altar. But Seymour went the opposite direction, taking him through the big building, the arcade hall continuing to chase the entire perimeter.

Finally at the end, there was a door marked "Office" with a staircase rising to the side. Seymour took the stairs, explaining, "This leads to the bedrooms on the upper stories."

"Okay," Virgil heard himself say. At this point there really wasn't much else he could do. He felt like an outsider looking in on a world he no longer understood, and Seymour was his only bridge between the bleak, apathetic place and the way back.

Their footsteps echoed dully through this wasteland of a building, and Virgil tipped his cell out of his pocket, finding it still half-dead. When they reached the third level Seymour dismounted the stairwell, and he seemed to quicken his pace out of anticipation. Virgil, too, suffered an eagerness, wondering if maybe Seymour _did_ indeed possess a working phone. If nothing else, he could leave very soon.

It was so eerily quiet inside. There was a heaviness to the air which held the noiseless life in a death grip, dragging it down, intensifying it. All Virgil knew was the resonance of his own heartbeat, sounding terribly loud enough he wondered if it had fallen right out of his chest. The anxious hope he clutched at died away.

Trying to steady himself with a deep breath, Virgil finally spoke. "Listen man, you know you don't have to be alone all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... you know there's nobody else here. You can tell that, right? This place is long abandoned."

"No." The answer surprised Virgil. "No, there's other kids here. At least they should be here by now."

Just then Seymour stopped and went into a room. So sudden, Virgil almost thought it was chosen at random. But as he followed, now carefully staying at a distance, he saw the room still kept a small bed, though unmade. It was to the bed frame and bare mattress Seymour promptly went, and Virgil noticed what looked to be a motorcycle helmet sitting in the center.

"Ya know," the other boy mused, "you good guys are all the same."

Virgil swallowed hard. There was a dark humor in his high voice now, a mixture of sinister cynicism and well-meaning glee. "Huh?"

"You all try so hard to be the hero." Seymour unzipped his jacket, and as he shrugged himself out of it Virgil could now see his white skinny pants were actually part of a jumpsuit. "Always tryin' to help the weaklings and scaredy cats."

A coldness washed over him, and Virgil's hands tightened into fists within his pockets. _What's he sayin'? Good guys as heroes..._ And his demeanor had changed, becoming more open and perceptive.

He knew! Was it possible Seymour already knew he had meta-powers? Even though Virgil himself had never out-and-out declared it.

"I-I don't—" A panicked warning rose swiftly, causing Virgil to dig his heels in, mentally and physically. "I don't follow you, dude. I didn't think you were weak."

"Really?" Seymour chuckled as he slung his outerwear on the bedside. "I gotta work on my damsel in distress routine then. But hey, it worked in the end. You wanted to help me _so bad_, dawg."

Already unnerved, Virgil's brows knit together at being made fun of. It felt threatening, but there remained a touch of cheery joshing to his tone. It worried him, not sure if Seymour were being outright antagonistic, or simply trying to provoke him like some kid brother might.

But why? What was going on?

Feeling for the helmet, Seymour breathed out in welcoming relief when his fingers enclosed around the headgear. "Baby, I missed you," he whispered to it in wicked mirth. And then he lifted it over his head.

Virgil watched in awe, confusion, and growing dread as thin needles inside the dome tipped out. As the helmet came into contact with Seymour's scalp, the metal needles set into specific places, and even before they sunk in the boy sucked in a readying breath, expecting the sharp pain of the probes entering his skull. Virgil winced when he put the helmet on.

Once in place, the green helmet was form-fitting to the entire top half of the boy's head. Along the sides, his ears were encased with protrusions which resembled, strangely, dials. Releasing a satisfied breath, Seymour retrieved next a pair of green leather gauntlets, finding those without having to feel.

As he adjusted the fingers, tugging down the gloves, he said happily, "Much better." He turned to face Virgil—

Who drew back in horror at the immediate sight.

The faceplate of the helmet was one large eyeball set in the center, making the boy before him look like a robotic Cyclops. The eye itself appeared more digital, only vaguely resembling a human eye. Still, the ocular prosthesis rolled believably, and it had a shiny quality to it, slick like realistic tears. Staring straight at him—it was grossly alarming.

"What _are_ you, man?"

Offering a devilish smile, Seymour said, "Yeah, I _See More_ than I let on."

His white suit had a stylized emblem on the chest, matching the outline of his customized helmet. Virgil didn't even need to hear it explained; the neuro-helmet had sensory probes tapping into his brain, connecting the miracle of science to his failed biological vision. Besides granting him sight, who knew what else the high-tech device allowed him to do? He might not have a meta-gene, but See-More was obviously just as super-powered as Virgil. However, unlike Virgil, he was also a professed "bad guy".

"This was a set-up. You and that kidnapper, you was workin' together just to get me here."

"Nah, you're only half right, dawg. I was a plant, sure enough. Picked up my acting skills from watching you at work. That day at the soda machine, dude? Bravo." He supplied a brief clap of his hands in honor of the display.

_He's been watching us this whole time?! _

"But that fella? He was duped into grabbing us. Played him real well, too. You'll find we can be very _persuasive_."

_We? _All of a sudden, the memories of the previous nights came rushing back tenfold. Bad luck _was_ coming for them! And Virgil knew the others were in trouble just as definitely as he. Worse, they'd been separated. It somehow felt like everything was his fault.

"So why all this, huh? What do you want?"

"I just brought you here to talk."

Virgil tilted his head, a brow raised. He didn't expect it to be that simple. "Talk? What do you wanna talk about?"

"Not me, dawg. I'm just the delivery boy. We'll have stuff to talk about after."

Without warning, See-More shot a hand to one of the side dials. With a quick turn, his eye blanked to a red screen, already building energy. And fired.

Virgil barely had a chance to react, bringing his power to rise, before the laser took him square in the chest. There was a searing flash. Then the impact sent him into the opposite door, the force bringing it clean off its hinges as he crashed inside the room. Rolling, he felt his spine connect with the leg of the bed before his body rammed into the far wall. Winded, blinded by pain and dust clouds, Virgil tried to raise himself up to defend, but he faltered.

"Oh okay," he panted, losing breath. "It's like _that_, huh?"

There was a tiny, almost sympathetic, grin on See-More's face as he stood over him. "It doesn't have to be."

The red fire had changed on his visor, replaced with a swirling, hypnotic LED light. As tacky as the notion seemed to him, Virgil knew the subliminal screen was armored by science. He tried to look away, but the added movements and warping colors sent his already disoriented brain whirling faster, faster. He felt sick, felt faint, and he blacked out before he could even reach again for his power.

* * *

><p>An old church. In the middle of nowhere. Standing like an ancient, withered king among a battlefield of marred and severed bodies, the other houses meek and ruined. Behind the building, grey clouds tumbled over the early stars struggling to come out against the billowy sky-mass, completing the depressing picture. It gave Tye the creeps. But the imagery wasn't the only thing unsettling him. The fact it was a religious establishment seemed like another bad sign.<p>

He said without thinking, "Wherever they fall, there shall they be buried."

"Suimasen, do not like."

"I don't like it, either."

The signal from Sam's phone lay right atop the one left between the other two boys; they had arrived. All that was left to do was find Virgil and Eduardo, but he didn't suspect it would be as easy as that. There was something devilish about this Holy construct and it turned his blood icy. Tye sensed his very past at his back, pushing him to enter, and it was as if everything had been leading up to this precise moment.

That bothered him more than he could say.

He stepped off his skateboard, rolling it up against the half-fallen fence. "Let's go check it out. I don't wanna be here when it gets dark and the storm breaks." Even as he spoke, thunder rolled in the distance.

He led the way up the front porch, hearing the creaking heaviness from the aged wood under their weight. The color was washed out, the wood and stone victims of a long, sad life. As he approached the main entrance, Tye found it curious there was not a single legal statement to detour trespassers, no caution tape, and no padlocks. It was like nobody cared.

The double doors themselves were unlocked, and they cried on their rusted hinges in a mocking welcome when he parted them wide. The sound echoed dully throughout the ample expanse of the church, almost like it was laughing at the two teenagers. Slowly, the pair walked inside, smelling the musty aroma of bygone times, cold and dusty.

The warped floorboards crackled under their feet, littered with dried leaves and rubbish, a sign the doors were often opened. To their right a receptionist desk sat, but besides that upgrade, the interior remained a traditional vestibule. Tye moved as if drawn into the main assembly hall.

He treaded lightly—what was it about churches that made one feel small and uncomfortable?—going deeper into the cavernous crossing in search of their missing friends. Or at least some understanding or clue.

What was once the place to worship was now a converted lobby or mess hall, a place for residents to gather. In accordance to someone's twisted humor, the pews had been transformed into table benches, and the original architecture left untouched. Including a massive cross decorating the end of the nave. Eyes fixed on it, Tye stopped dead in his tracks, Sam bumping into him.

He couldn't bring himself to go further into that vaulted arena. "I don't see them," he said, hushed under the shadow of the cross.

Sam copied his misgivings, saying softly, "Go other way."

The crossing hallways were both similar, but Tye saw an outside door ajar down the length to his left; risen by the coming storm, wind tipped inside to swirl up dirt, ripple the window tarps. He gestured for Sam to follow him, and their pace quickened when they saw footprints clearly standing out in the years of dust.

Tye traced the outlines in his mind. "Two people," he said. "Good, they are both here." Whether or not it _was_ actually a good thing remained to be seen.

"Naze koko ni? Why here?"

"I know, of all places."

Tye was studying the direction the marks went, and they seemed to move gradually, the placement rather cautious. The implication caused him to bite his lip. Something about this whole scenario was out of whack. "Can you feel that?" he breathed in trepidation. Ed had been right all along; he felt like they were being selectively hunted out.

Before he went after them, he warned, "We need to be ready. This could be a trap." He lifted his fist in a suggestion of vigilant fight.

Sam nodded, bringing her own fist up. "_Torappu_, wakarimashita."

Tye smiled encouragingly, but he wasn't so sure they _could_ be fully prepared. He had no idea what to expect, what was going on. But they would go down fighting if they had to. So resolved, he walked on, hearing wind whistling outside the windows running down the hall. It was weird, all life seemed to be happening outside the run-down place; nothing could touch this monolith, no light or breath could reach beyond its shell.

There were no doors until the end, but the sneaker prints turned, going upstairs. The staircase was slight, allowing only one at a time, and it rose into a tunnel, walls on both sides. He didn't know how many levels they'd find, and being closed off seemed like assistance to any would-be assailant, but they had no choice. Tye moved up, wondering why everyone associated upwards with heavenly light—he only walked into darkness, floating in shadows.

"Baajiru-kun to Edu-kun daijōbu kana," Asami whispered restlessly behind him, her voice full of worry.

Silenced by the dire church, Tye could only nod in vague understanding.

And that's when they heard it, a rattling crash from somewhere above. Sam put a hand out to touch his elbow, distressed. Raising his eyes to the hidden ceiling, Tye wondered if it was the storm. But the walls seemed to shake from the inside out, the sound of something broken by force.

They were at the second story landing, and unable to find tread-marks anymore, Tye took the platform, listening intently. It was now completely dark within, the halls suffocating, the air warmed by mounds of dust and years quarantined of life. He heard sounds which could have been the storm, or perhaps someone talking; it wasn't close enough to tell.

Then he heard the crying.

Soft and low, like a helplessly lost child trying to hold in sobs. It was faint but just ahead. Tye was conscious of Sam breathing heavily, but his own had caught in his throat. By sheer will he steadied himself, found his courage—and a bit of his temper.

Down the hall they followed the pitiful noise. All the doors were closed, driving the echoing, weeping moans directly to them. And then, squinting through the bleak way ahead, Tye finally saw the small figure.

Huddled on the floor, hunched and trembling, a little boy sat with his back to them. Too young to be Virgil or Ed, the discovery was frighteningly disarming. Darkly dressed, his scalp shaved, the boy seemed sickly and sad. There was a strange aura about the child, who appeared to be cowering outside one of the doors, as if locked out and begging to be allowed back in.

The vision was ghost-like; Tye couldn't hold back the shiver passing through him._ What is this place?_ _What's going on here?_

"Tye-kun?" Sam's voice was hushed behind him, like she did not want to alert the child to their presence.

He, however, took a tentative step forward. "Hey... Kid, you okay?" There was no recognition he even spoke, so Tye braved to approach the mysterious, crying child. "What are you doing here by yourself? "

As he neared the unresponsive boy, already reaching a hand out to tap his shoulder, the tears turned into an altogether different emotion.

He was giggling.

Stifling a stunned and begrudging growl, Tye backed away—and his heel bumped into something set on the floor. It was a chain reaction; he saw an electronic disc flicker light, and the image of the child wavered, unreal.

"What the—?!"

Disbelief turned to anger._ Not a ghost,_ he realized. _A hologram!_ Just as the bald-headed figure turned to regard him with a nasty grin, Tye crushed the photosensitive medium under his shoe, killing the transmission. The representation vanished in a flashing whir.

And a female voice announced behind them: "Welcome home."

Tye and Sam turned, finding a slight girl standing at the far end of the hall. The window at her back blotted out her identity, the growing storm silhouetting her form. There was an outline of her dress and hair tied up into horns. But all they saw of her face was vividly glowing eyes.

Suddenly, she threw open her arms and razed the ground with piercing pink light.

The mystifying girl's powers fractured the floorboards, singeing and snapping, cracking wide a gulf between Tye and Sam—separating them. The closest to the incoming attack, Asami grounded herself and clapped her hands together, her body taking on the glow of her meta-power.

"No! Wait, Sam!"

He didn't like the tactics displayed. They were obviously being driven apart. But before Tye could move in to help, the floorboards under his feet exploded, torn up from below by giant, lashing metal spikes.

Thrashing above ground, tearing up the wooden slats, they moved mechanically, but curled like spider legs.

Everything happened too fast.

Tye was flung back, helplessly watching Sam through the disruption. He saw her spiral towards the other girl, her powerful, slicing air currents joining the chaos. Pink light flashed. And he could only be a witness as Sam—caught off-guard by the grappling mecha-insect—was overtaken by the yawning mouth of the abyss that was now the floor.

He watched her fall.

_"Sam!"_

The Gothic-dressed girl stopped and, mocking and badass, threw him a kiss, causing the arching doorways through the hall to collapse. It was like the world suddenly imploded. But he knew what she did—

He was trapped. Worse, he was separated from the others.

And now the robotic creature lifted itself up from beneath the ground levels, and Tye saw it was the same small boy from the hologram. He was strapped to a computerized backpack, harnessed in as the body of the spider, the legs rising out from the pack. He was controlling them as his own limbs using a remote.

_This is insane! Who in the hell are these kids?!_

Towering high above him, steel legs glistening in the weak light, the boy laughed manically. "You crud-munchers make it _too_ easy!"

Tye glowered back. "What do you want, you little gremlin?"

"Just to say hello."

Two spindly legs lanced for him, but Tye leaped out of their path, tucking and rolling beneath the boy; his body arced upright and he steadied himself on his knees. This was not a fight he expected, and his mind raced for a battle plan of his own. But all he kept envisioning was Sam falling—

_Shit! _With the kid's laughter ringing annoyingly in his ears, Tye bolted to his feet and scrambled over the wreckage of the floor, hearing wood still caving in, doors groaning and swaying. The girl was gone, but her aftermath threatened to take him under as well. Behind him, he heard the metallic clunk of legs plunging into the walls, the boy coming around after him.

He only saw darkness below the ruins. He wanted to close his eyes and breathe, to become one with the Spirit, but he didn't dare the time. Tye was about to risk the drop instead and go after Asami, but suddenly a pike cemented his fate as it tore down in front of him, throwing him backwards, off balance.

"Don't think so!" the boy cackled.

Of a sudden, Tye heard the rushing _pop_ of something gun-fired, and it slammed him to the ground. He felt netting, felt pin-pricks of metal, like fine barbed wire, and he saw the threads meshing him. The net was weighted by steel ball ends, keeping him down. But it wasn't terribly heavy, and he knew he could remove the snare—

Until he felt the electricity run through the wires, clean through his every nerve. He couldn't fight the pulsing currents, crying out sharply; it felt like his very flesh was being ripped by a thousand needles. Somewhere in his rapid thoughts, he realized the intense power was to counter his; this boy knew his meta-power and how it worked.

And before he drowned in the surging blackness and confusion, he heard the boy taunt: "Nighty-night, pie-for-brains."

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Dark and Light" by Hideki Imamura and his experimental band DETROX. All copyrights reserved with no infringement intended.


	9. They're Coming for Us Now

**A/N: **There is again lots of fanon for everyone but Static, whom I'm adapting details from the original, Pre-New 52 comic for. Minor nods and throwbacks for Asami though, if anybody can guess them! ;) Thank you for following the under-appreciated Runaways, and I hope you all are enjoying the story, even if you don't say so. Thanks for any and all support! :D

* * *

><p><strong>IX.<strong>

**"And I wonder if we'll make it through the night.  
><strong>**And all I know is if you can't fight learn to die."**

Eduardo felt a sharp twinge shoot through his head, between his temples. With a sudden ringing in his ears, he heard the voice behind him. _"Mi hijo."_

He stopped mid-step, eyes widening in shock. _That's not possible..._

There was no way his father could have traced him here. There was no need to; Dr. Dorado couldn't have known his son was suddenly in trouble.

Yet Ed couldn't stop the fleeting thought of hope, a child's age-old desire to have his father's acceptance. It was something he held on to for a long, long time, wishfully thinking his father would come back for him.

_No. It's _not_ possible._

Even if it _was_ what he always wanted.

But the low voice was so familiar, even the associated emotions to the rich sound were personal to him, attachments nobody else could know unless they were in his head. The anxious weight on his chest forced him to hold his breath; what was going on here? As his alarmed, racing thoughts cleared, Ed still knew there was someone behind him, opening the door.

Now the voice asked, _"Why are you here?"_

Cautiously, Ed turned to look back up the stairs, the darkness concealing the person at the top, within the pantry. The person in a long white coat—

Ed gasped. He was too stunned, too overcome and caught off-guard, he failed to find the step beneath him as he backed away from the figure, so resembling his father. He lost his balance. Ed fell the remaining stairs back down to the basement, landing on the hard cement floor with a resounding _thud_. He couldn't even try to break his fall, his mind reeling; and as he crashed down on his side, he was already pulling himself up on his elbows to gaze back upstairs—

Back at the man looking down on him with a disdainful air of judgment.

The panic rose swiftly, bringing a cold sweat to his skin. In the profound darkness, all he could distinguish were those hard, lit eyes. Under the weight of that penetrating stare, he suddenly felt like a child who had done something wrong. The ringing in his ears escalated into a hollow buzz.

"Dios mío... padre—" He found it hard to breathe, the situation sapping his self-control. And with the harsh shadow of his father above him, his hands started trembling, like someone awaiting his sentence. "¿Qué haces aquí? Cómo...?"

_"Why are _you_ here?" _The tone was demanding now, disapproving, and Ed unconsciously cringed. _"Nobody wanted you to come."_

The son's jaw dropped at the honest statement. The dismal basement seemed to plunge in around him, and he no longer felt _real_; Ed felt like his past had converged onto the present, and he couldn't think straight. He could only remember—That's right. His father had not wanted him to come to America. He left him behind in Argentina.

_"For a reason."_

"But I—"

_"You have no one but yourself to blame. Chico tonto, it has always been your fault. Your mother, the family arguments, the Reach—the hate. Why do you think no one wants you around?"_

A wordless sound of hurt escaped his lips, and the statements openly stung like the crack of his father's backhand against his face. The accusation was given so forthright, so boldly, it sounded true. Sounded? Of course there were times the son felt that way, when he was younger, always wondering why. Yet he never truly believed the self-demoralizing suspicions. Until now.

Until he heard the words come right from his father.

The stairs began creaking, the person—his father—treading down the flight into the basement. It was hard to see clearly through the fog of bafflement and despair, added to the darkness of this hole in the earth; the face was still hidden from Eduardo Jr., who now shrunk against the floor like a tiny animal under someone's boot heel.

"I just wanted... someone..." he tried explaining, mumbling into the floor. Words didn't make sense to him of a sudden, and he could no longer recall reasons why. He could feel the cold stone beneath him draining the heat from his body.

_"Selfish, stupid child. Nobody wanted you here."_

Ed felt his eyes burning and he tried to mask the tears. He never liked showing his pride or weakness to his family, because it always led into a fight. Just like Tye had said, the only way he knew how to communicate was through anger—it was his safety zone. And that's why his father abandoned him. He never knew his mother, but he suspected perhaps his father blamed him...

The Reach wanted to use him, to play God and create a superhuman warrior. He was nothing to them but a lab rat. He thought he had a place on the team with the other Runaways, but... yes, he ruined that, too. He attacked Tye, he put Virgil in danger, and Asami...

It was all his fault. Everything he did was a mistake. His father never wanted him...

_"Nobody wants you."_

It was then that the floor opened up underneath him, and beyond the tears Eduardo saw the black swirl spinning hypnotically, crackles of white energy snapping the portal wide. Cold air burst through seconds before the pair of grabbing hands.

He was dragged into the empty void once more, the sensation like drowning in an ice-bath. The break in the earthly plane was electrifying, a shudder of frigid time and space. It was a rush, and over within seconds. Another portal opened and he was flung over the threshold, coming back into the basement, in the far corner and falling from the wall.

Ed caught himself in a rolling crouch, fingers digging into the ground to halt his physical and mental spin. His joints ached with the cold, and his tears had frozen against his eyelashes; it took great effort for him to gain his feet, his spirit crestfallen. And as he stood, his assailant finally appeared.

Stepping casually through the black portal in the wall, gathering the swirling energy into his cloak, a teenager in a liquid-black suit landed on the earthly plane with a blank, glowing-red stare. Neither supportive nor antagonistic, he regarded Eduardo with a passive face, sharp features and skin as pale as the Goth girl's. His suit was reinforced like a cowl over his face, the mask drawing lines from the bridge of his nose, to the back of his scalp, ending in pointed ears. With his cape cut with bat-wing tips, he resembled a demonic little Batman.

Ed forced a nasty smirk. "Hola, Diablo."

The wicked-looking kid cocked his head sideways, rather like a muted greeting of welcome.

* * *

><p><em>"Always trying to be a hero."<em>

Virgil felt as if he were floating on a lake, his body defying gravity and drifting easily on a dead current of water. It was not relaxing; in fact, it was terrifying. He had the strange notion this realm was itching for him to let go—give up and drown. All around him was a dull blackness, neither solid ground, nor liquid pool. The air was shallow, and there were no stars staring down on him from the dark sky.

Then he heard the thunder roll, distantly, warningly. Virgil could feel that sound, rippling the darkness, and he thought, _There's a storm coming? Shit, there's_ always _a storm coming..._

_"And aren't you tired of trying to be the hero?" _The voice in his head echoed dully, pounding against his skull with a fading tremor. But somehow Virgil knew it was not his subconscious, the resonance intrusive and prickling.

_It's not 'bout being a hero,_ he replied. Even if it did turn out he was talking to himself, he felt the need to defend his stand. _It's just doin' what's right._

_"What's right?" _The tone was mocking, distrustful. "_Have you always done 'what's right'?"_

He wanted to shoot back that of course he had. He believed most people in their lives chose to do the right thing, even if it took some time to get to the decision. Sure, life could be hard, making people struggle, forcing them to fall. Yet the human spirit was resilient. But the voice already knew his response and countered his theory.

It urged:_ "Or is it just that fighting is a fact of life? Survival of the fittest."_

Now Virgil found it harder to formulate a come-back. There was certainly no arguing the fact. Why, he remembered being bullied when he was younger, and he'd been curious to the natural selection of the child-predators. He tried not to let it get to him, because it _was_ a part of life. His life anyway, growing up among the heavily gang-influenced inner-city. Yet when push came to shove, at the darkest moments, he _did_ want to fight back. To be completely honest, he wanted a reckoning. For justice, though, not revenge.

_"Does justice make it right? What does justice and truth get you in the end? What about Rick?"_

Rick Stone? But—_ That's not fair, man. I didn't do nothin' against Rick._ And even as the thoughts formed, his guilt swelled. Because it was not entirely true.

They were friends and Virgil would never have said or done anything to intentionally hurt or belittle Rick. Not intentional, and not out loud to his face. However, he knew it was probably obvious; he was uncomfortable after his friend came out, even if at the time he didn't admit it, wouldn't allow himself to see it. And when poor Rick just wanted to be himself, what did he do?

Virgil felt his obtrusive consciousness prod him roughly, a jeering laugh in his head. And Virgil relented: _But I__... I didn't stand up for him, neither. _

That's right. He felt too awkward to put himself into any of Rick's conversations, the topic of being gay too embarrassing for himself to open up about, even though it was never about him. So when his friend was teased, even loathingly harassed, Virgil would fall silent and withhold his support. He would run away.

_"Is that doing what's right?"_

It took violence and gay-bashing—and yes, some feminine motivation from Frieda—for Virgil to open his eyes, to be up-front with himself that he was probably homophobic. Still, he never wanted to admit his discomfort, his shortcomings, so steadfast was his almost righteous arrogance. Was that justice?

"_And you think you're a hero? So what good is your power then?"_

Power didn't make him a hero. Maybe... maybe the voice was right? Maybe he was too flawed, too selfish? Real heroes don't pick-and-choose their fights, for egocentric motives. A pang of regret stabbed Virgil clean through the chest. Hard enough to make him gasp, make him realize he was actually floating on that lake _upside down_.

Virgil gagged on water, feeling his chest burning, recalling the searing pain of See-More's laser. And as he awakened from the blackness, he heard the mysterious inner voice dare: "_Or maybe you've just been fighting on the wrong side?"_

Heaving violently, his body reacting to fluid in his lungs, Virgil coughed out real water, noticing it was still blackened and thick. A wave of nausea passed over him as he saw himself, on hands and knees, in a bathtub filled with ancient, stagnant water. It was dirty, putrid, with dead insects and molding leaves floating on the oily surface. With a shudder, Virgil wiped his mouth and sat back on his heels, refusing to give the disgusting water another look.

It was dark out now, and the storm was pulsing heavily in the sky above the ruined church; he could hear wind and thunder. How long had he been out?

"Ah dang, man," a familiar voice said. "I thought I killed you for a second there. _Phew!_"

Lurching to his feet, treads slipping slightly, Virgil found See-More sitting on the tank of the toilet nearby, his feet propped on the seat, which miraculously still had its shag cover. The other teen grinned at him, seeing him clearly through his single optic.

To his mind, there was still a battle between them. And Virgil immediately brought his power to surface, sending electrical charges through his fingertips, into his fists. He wasn't concerned about the filthy water conducting his current; the volts attacked him only momentarily, but he directed them using his negative charges. His power branched out, and the opposite charges of the water made the liquid rise in large droplets, attracted to his energy.

All that power was directed towards his rival, who merely smiled in anticipation. "Attaboy."

* * *

><p>It was the look on his face which hurt the most. It was an image Asami suspected would never leave her memory. Her father had been a history professor, dignified and strict, and extremely adherent to the old traditions. She always felt like she would never be good enough for him, so much so that she almost stopped trying. But she never stopped caring, and that's why her fall from grace was inevitable.<p>

_"Because you _aren't_ good enough."_

The strong voice shook inside her head, making her flinch. It reminded her of her father, so inflexible and positive. Although he always scrutinized every little thing she did, he had never outright said such a thing to her. Then again, he didn't have to for her to know it was true.

However, it was jealousy that did her in...

Suddenly, a ringing began building in her ears, shooting pin-prinks of pain passing through her brain. Asami tried to ward off the flickering dings by shaking her head, and the movement turned the ringing to a low wail. It hurt, and she came awake to a sweeter voice faintly saying, _"How could you?"_

_Dare ka?_ She wondered whose voice it was, realizing it was not her own subconscious thought. The query echoed sadly in her mind: _"How could you?"_

Opening her eyes, Asami had to blink rapidly against the grit and dust clouding her vision. When she was finally able to lift her eyelids, she still saw nothing except a low-laying haze on a field of black. And then she remembered: the church, the fighting and powers, and the fall.

Coming fully 'round, she shifted her body, feeling her muscles sore and heavy. Broken slats and tattered floorboards slid from her back as she placed her hands under her chest, lifting herself off her stomach and sitting back. Splinters stung in her palms, her spine throbbed with a repeated ache, and she felt a painful bruise already blooming on one knee. _Itai... _

There was debris everywhere, nails clinking from the broken construct and plaster caving. Wood and crumbling mortar continued to fall at random from above, and Asami wondered how far down she fell. She also wondered, rather sarcastically, how many times she'd be stuck in a collapsing building.

When the wreckage became a hollow din, silence dropped like a coverlet. Asami couldn't tell if she had fallen into an actual room, or was lost in the walls and foundation beneath the stairs. A thick sense of trapped loneliness rose up, followed by a deep worry. _Tye-kun!_

Almost mocking of the thought, a sudden cry sounded. Asami jumped at the abrupt noise.

And the voice demanded again: _"How _could_ you?"_

Asami gasped, the voice now holding a note of familiarity. It was delicate and tragic—and accusing. She staggered to her feet, wobbling on the litter of planks.

The cry came again, lost somewhere in the darkness surrounding her. Asami turned, her heart racing at the mournful sound. It was shrill and scared, just as scared as she quickly felt. It died away, to be replaced by the masculine tenor of her father's voice in her head: _"You'll never be good enough. Why can you not be more like _her_?"_

Biting her lip to hold back the renewed wave of resentment, Asami knew who he meant: Why can't you be more like Hiromi?

The high-pitched keening called again, but this time the forlorn cry caused a bitterness to shoot through her.

Her best friend, Hiromi—perfect, pretty Hiromi—was the proper little lady her father constantly said he wanted her to be. Said it by name, quick to compare the two friends like night and day. She knew Hiromi their whole lives and thus felt obligated to maintain the childhood friendship, even if it was forced in recent years. She couldn't stomach the adoring way everyone looked at Hiromi, the model teen, the perfect daughter. Hopeful volunteer, prestigious class president, talented captain of the kyūdō team, and proud of her heritage. Everything Asami was not, and never wanted to be.

And now that intruding voice of her subconscious returned to the mix. _"So you blatantly disrespected everything you were brought up to stand for, didn't you, child? It was on purpose, wasn't it?"_

She wouldn't admit it to herself, the possibility her actions were intentional. Was it spite? She never meant to hurt anyone... even when it seemed like they wanted nothing more than to bring her crashing down. Nobody thought she'd succeed at anything. Her own mother often called her _gaki_, a brat; and she was stonewalled by not only family, but friends, too. She got the impression no one would have been friendly towards her had it not been for Hiromi's popularity.

_"Poor little Asami. You'll never be good enough, for anyone."_

It was true. Even Tatsunao had chosen Hiromi over her. And she was certain _that_ was intentional. Her friend hadn't even expressed interest in him, not once; not until Asami made her crush clearly known. The jealousy surged once they started dating, because at the time she was sure Hiromi did it to be mean.

The sharp cry intensified to a sobbing wail which struck her like a knife to the heart. _How could you?_

_"Yes, my girl. Everyone hated you, what you are, what you are not."_

They fought, and not only through words. Asami remembered that day in school, feeling fed up, feeling inadequate. She felt small and isolated in the world around her, but she was not helpless. She verbally attacked Hiromi for the first time ever, all her emotions overwhelming her like a crashing tidal wave.

"Donotsurasagete?" Hiromi had tearfully demanded. _How could you?_ Of course she wouldn't understand. Asami wondered if Hiromi had ever thought about anybody else but herself. Vengefully, she hit her. Proudly, Hiromi slapped her back. It escalated out of control, like an _oni_ had taken possession of her body. And then the accident.

It _was_ an accident, she never meant for Hiromi to fall. In her mind she replayed that scene, watching the girl's body roll and crack against every stair, limply... and her initial scream of terror...

Asami could hear it again now. Directly through her memories, the weeping yowl, trilling with fear and pain. Louder and louder the mournful cries grew... _How could you? _In retrospect, the look on Hiromi's face had been—heartbroken. For perhaps the first time she felt regret, and it made her breathless and afraid.

Asami clamped her hands over her ears. "Yameru."

Hiromi had broken both legs, her concussion bad but not severe. Yet everyone looked at Asami like some cold-blooded murderer. She told them all it was an accident, but—

_"Gaki no bōon, antadesu. Who would believe you? The one who attacked perfect Hiromi, the girl everyone loved."_

"Onegai yamete... stop please..."

She couldn't take it, the hurt wailing and direct finger pointing. It brought the image of her father crashing back. He told her she had publicly humiliated herself, and worse, disgraced him and her mother. She was a sassy brat who never thought about anyone but herself. They "knew" what she did to her best friend was spitefully on purpose, over her unhealthy fawning for a boy that wasn't hers. She was told she should be ashamed of herself. The look on her father's face was intense disgust, like she was a creature undeserving of any understanding or sympathy.

_"Silly little girl, you'll never be good enough—for _them_..."_

Asami vaguely sensed her own tears streaming down her cheeks, but it was hard to distinguish anything else against the deepened moans of the ghostly echoes. And then she sensed the other's presence, through her tears seeing a shadow detach itself from the darkness. She thought for a second it was Hiromi. It spun gracefully in a dance—turning, turning—stepping casually over the wreck with confident precision. Lean arms extended in a playful twirl, dress spinning.

The cry called to her again, reverberating inside her skull. And the shadow laughed beautifully, eyes twinkling with pink fire and singing in a whisper: "Ring-a-around the rosie, pocket full of posies. Ashes... Ashes... We all fall down~"

* * *

><p><em>"Just be what you are."<em>

Hollow. That was the only word to describe it. He felt empty inside, like he'd been completely stripped of all emotions, laid bare after the death of his father. At the time he called it pride, because he wanted to man up and be responsible. Yet as the days, weeks, months, and ultimately years swept by, he recognized the truth: he was going hollow, and he didn't care anymore about anything. Jaime had told him when they met he needed to chill out, lighten up.

"Life isn't that complicated, you know?" he'd told him.

"Maybe not for you," Tye had said in return. But he didn't know how to explain the experience of losing his Dad, being raised by a single working mother, and expected to carry the weight of not only a family house, but an entire cultural tribe. They were just kids then.

However, with Jaime, it hadn't been complicated, and he learned to let go and not take things too seriously. Having such a close friend, someone outside of the Apache expectations, had been liberating and downright fun. But he still felt hollow inside.

Until Maurice.

A drifting thought came to him: _"It felt good." _Yet as he heard the hushed statement, he wasn't so sure. Maurice disgusted him, provoked him into unleashing his pent up annoyance, and he truly _felt_ something for a change, expressed it openly. Even when it only hurt his mother in the end...

_"Be what you are."_

_And what am I?_ he shot back at the sharp subconscious voice penetrating his defenses. There was a distinct, high-pitched ring in his head, deafening, like a television set on maximum volume during an old emergency broadcast alert. The tinny wail was pissing him off, and it made the voice laugh at him.

_"Wrath,"_ it told him surely. _"You are vengeance."_

Tye Longshadow could not stop the bemused smirk overcoming his senses. Why did he take a liking to that thought? It wasn't true, though—it couldn't be. _Yeah, alright, I'll admit, I'm angry a lot. But I have a right to be, dammit. _Who wouldn't be after walking a minute in his shoes? But that wasn't his whole purpose in life. It was simply his coping method.

_"Just be what you are. That's the only way to save them..."_

Save them? That's right. He had to protect his friends, and he had to rescue Jaime, stolen by the Reach. And the Reach—of course he had to keep fighting them, in order to make sure his mother was safe. It seemed like a vicious circle of fury and war. But he couldn't bear losing anybody else he cared about. He didn't want to feel hollow anymore.

_"Just be."_

Was the voice the Spirit calling to him? Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he realized he was coming to, waking up, and all that time the Spirit had not risen. Was it asking him to stay asleep, to let it finally take over? If there was a fight, he needed the Spirit's help. For a moment, Tye breathed deeply, ready to allow the fog to surmount him. But...

There was no fog this time, only blackness and rage. And the domineering voice in his head. Tye suddenly grew apprehensive.

_No, I can't_— He fought it, struggling to wake up completely. He couldn't lose control again.

_"Why? Are you afraid of hurting someone?"_

Suspicion stayed his tongue from responding to that goading inner demon. A pounding began to fill his head, like the war-cry of distant battle drums. It was painful, and Tye welcomed the pain—because it meant he was returning wholly to himself. He could hear his heartbeat mimicking the pounding, feel it heating his blood.

_"What are you so afraid of, dear boy?"_

_Stop saying that. I am _not _afraid! _Even as he snapped the thoughts he knew he was succumbing to exactly what the voice wanted: anger. And he also knew his words were a lie. Fear and anger. They were the two things which would cause him to lose control of his meta-power, as well as the partnership with the Spirit. So why would it be taunting him like this? Why did it want out? _Whose_ voice was it?

_"Just be. Use that anger—"_ Suddenly, Tye sensed a physical touch, an outside tingling; he became conscious of someone stroking his chest. _"Use it, and I can help you overcome the fear..."_

Then he heard the metallic tap of his dog-tags man-handled, and Tye couldn't help but wonder: _Dad...?_

Gasping, Tye jerked free of the unconscious void, feeling slightly disoriented. At first, he saw nothing but more blackness. When everything began to clear, like a passing fever, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit world of the church. _Ahh, damn._ How he hated this place. It was messing with his mind. But there was still a ringing in his ears, an ache in the nape of his neck—and a hopeful tickle over his heart.

He went to hold his dog-tags for support, only to discover he couldn't move. He was actually tied down. Recalling the diminutive tech-boy, the electrified net, Tye's defenses flared up. He was fully alert, struggling against the bindings. However, he was no longer trapped like a netted animal.

He was tied to the giant cross in the mess hall. Had it not been for the remodel, Tye would have frightfully thought he was being sacrificed. Now it just seemed like a bad joke. He wasn't crucified to it, and his hands were essentially free, the ropes loosely encircling his midsection. With a little writhing it loosened enough for him to get his arms out, lifting the poorly tied rigging up over his head.

He dropped to the ground heavily, his body weakened by the electro-shock and mental torment. He'd be okay, though. But he wasn't so sure about Asami, Virgil, and Eduardo. He needed to find them—

"Heh! I thought you were s'pose to be the _strong_ one."

Tye wheeled around towards the voice of the maniacal boy, so irritatingly loud and cruelly insulting. The tech-boy was sitting above him atop the cross, grinning like an evil dwarf. The mechanical legs were gone, yet he still wore his MacGyver pack, which Tye suspected would be full of other gadgets.

He was tired of being this brat's plaything. He inhaled a sturdy, angry breath. "Why don't you come down here and find out?"

The boy's eyes looked pleased, his grin growing into a Mad Hatter-like smile. "You know what they say, snot-face: the bigger they are, the harder they fall!"

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Hollow Bodies" by blessthefall. All copyrights reserved with no infringement intended.


	10. We're Rising From the Grave

**X.**

**"I fought for all of my life but I have never seen  
>destruction crawling down the path after me.<br>But there's a chance to live, a chance to come alive.  
>I'm running faster now that I know it's my time"<strong>

"Ashes, ashes. We all fall down~"

The other girl sang the words in soft repetition, drawing closer with every stanza. Asami sank to her knees under the weight of the accusations and humiliation. No matter how tightly she kept her hands pressed over her ears, she could not drown anything out. It was all true, the voice in her head kept saying. She was never going to be good enough for that world; she had no place there.

"Ashes, ashes. You will fall down~"

"Damare!" She finally screamed back at the girl and the tormenting inner voice. Her own voice sounded wretched to her, sobbing and pitiful. And Asami hated it.

The girl chuckled then, and a sharp _click_ rang out over her amusement. The Japanese girl was too lost in her own self-loathing to notice the pink light flare across the broken boards, lifting them aside in woody bits. The girl kept snapping her fingers, taunting her with powerful bursts of miniature destruction.

"Oh, poor thing," the ominous pink-haired Goth cooed. "Not a friend in the world, huh?"

Asami wheezed in a breath through another sob. _Just stop,_ she begged silently, no longer able to comprehend even the simplest English phrases, let alone speak in turn.

As if sensing her dilemma, the girl sang nicely, "Hush little baby, don't say a word~"

She spun several small circles, and with each rotation she struck a toe harshly on the ground, causing a pop of pink fire to explode chunks of cement beneath her. The shards sent rivulets shooting towards Asami, tearing cracks like shattered glass around the miserable teen.

"It's only going to bring you down, you know. _They_ will bring you down." There was something goading in her tone, looking for a rise. And yet, a clear sense of comfort came through her calm voice, almost as if the girl understood her pain. "Jinx. Just like me."

Through her hurtful memories and tears, Asami finally caught on to what the stranger was asking for. A decision. Give in, or give up.

It felt an awful lot like the days before her alien abduction, when she decided to run away. It wasn't entirely a conscious decision, more like an escaped prisoner fleeing. In her despair, she just ran. It was easier than coping, or fighting. Or living another day under the unsympathetic judgments and appalled, heated looks. She'd been ready to give up.

Pink fire lanced at her right, so sharp it sliced the very stone to the core.

She should just give up now. It was easier, and it was probably what she deserved. It would have been over already if it had not been for the Reach...

The power seared towards her left, cracking the ground wide. Challenging her, criticizing her.

The Reach. _Sou yo. Riichi o tatakai... _She was still fighting the Reach. No—_they_ were still fighting. She remembered that night on the street, when she made the choice. She wasn't going to live in the past ever again. The Reach had unknowingly given her a second chance, and she decided to fight. For herself, for her friends—the boys always ready to include her, for who she was. They understood, and they supported her through thick and thin. She hadn't known them long, but they already displayed more caring than anyone she'd known her whole life.

Always wanting her opinion, her help, her company. Virgil had said they needed to do what's right, that they were their own team of superheroes. She recalled how Eduardo protected her on that rooftop, Tye saving them from being taken by the Reach again. And Tye's kiss. They were _famiri_. And she would fight for that.

With an angry sneer, she looked the Goth-girl directly in the eyes. For her frank gaze she earned a cocky head bob and a wide smile. The pink eyes illuminated, and she knew the next shot would be aimed for her.

Inhaling deeply to steel her nerves, the tears dried away. She drew herself proudly up on her knees, sitting in a humbled traditional position, her hands straight atop her thighs. She closed her eyes with a silent prayer, and the demon in her head felt it's power fade.

_"You belong with us, Asami Koizumi."_

"Iie," she responded aloud. She precisely laid her hands on the ground, leaning over them in a time-honored bow, saying farewell to her past. As she raised back up, she glared at the girl.

Then she lifted her meta-power to counter just as the other lanced piercing light in a direct frontal attack. The rippling aura of her own unnatural energy encased her body as Sam raised onto her feet, bringing her spiraling core of wind up as well. The torn ground and pink fire could not penetrate her fierce, shielding tornado.

"Wareware wa _sūpāhīrō_ nanoda. Atashi ga Samurai desu," she declared. "And I am not afraid of you!"

* * *

><p>The powerful bolt of electricity shattered the delicate porcelain, dormant water and sparks spraying everywhere like a geyser as the plumbing collapsed, pipes heated and broken. See-More expected the assault, leaping off the toilet and into a no-handed cart-wheel. Virgil wouldn't have thought he'd be so acrobatic; something about that display made him realize See-More was probably well-trained.<p>

But still, he had no meta-powers. With a growl, Virgil spread his arms apart, ripping the bathtub in two with the force of his electrical currents. The water drained away. He could feel tiny volts snaking against his skin, attacking the water clinging to him, but he fed off them. His energy was high...

Until he saw See-More slip ever-so-slightly in the sudden puddles, bumping into the doorframe. Virgil couldn't stop the memory of his blind eyes, his fumbling hands reading the world. He felt like a bully, and he hated himself for it. The thought came back to him: _Powers don't make you a hero..._

The electricity subsided within him, the doubt staying his hand. _Sonuvabitch!_

And See-More took the opportunity to flick the dial and fire again. Virgil rotated at the waist, ducking just under the laser beam as it hit the tiled wall over his shoulder, shards flying. It was a challenging aim, not a direct one as before; See-More grinned again, as if expecting more from the electrokinetic teen.

Trying to shake everything off, Virgil threw a hand at the other, letting lightning streak. See-More instantly fired another shot, counter-attacking. The two energies met in a crackling pairing, red and blue, and bounced off each other in a quaking explosion.

Virgil absorbed the rebound of his power, dropping to a knee against the small eruption of laser-light. See-More, on the other hand, laughed rather excitedly, darting from the room. Even though Virgil was aware this would be a game of follow the leader, he chased after him, his power at the surface.

_What's wrong with you, Hawkins,_ he scolded himself. _Get a game plan, or get outta here. This guy's just messin' with you! _

Back out into the desolate tunnel, Virgil saw a flash of white down the hallway, See-More's pace prompting him to keep up. It was utterly dark in this horrible building, and Virgil allowed his power to crackle freely, giving him a blue aura to see by. At night, the empty structure seemed like a mortuary temple, the dust reflecting his light like a ghostly haze through the catacombs.

Coming to the stairwell junction, he heard a harsh whistle, and suddenly something struck the wall; like a bullet, it tore clean through. Virgil planted his weight into his heels, skidding to a halt before putting himself into the line of fire. From the stairs, See-More's helmet shot another round, which ricocheted like a misaimed slingshot. Virgil ducked against the other side, crouching down. When the projectile rolled towards him, he could see it was eyeball-esque. _Funny,_ he thought with a snicker.

Funny or not, they were still as strong as ball bearings, the missile function of his helmet able to inflict serious pain. He needed to be careful. Yet, it was clear See-More was no longer going in for the kill, his aims constantly off. _Herdin' me somewhere? _Should he foolishly keep following?

Then again, he remembered See-More said _somebody _wanted to talk to him, and that sparked his curiosity. Listening to the other's feet pound down the stairs, Virgil was hell-bent to follow. However, he still recalled what curiosity did to the cat.

* * *

><p>Sam didn't shy away from the fight, instead spiraling right for the Jinx girl. Her own powers churned the ruins of the ground level as she put everything she had into the attack—everything and more, her emotions bringing an empowering force to her meta defenses.<p>

Jinx was nimble and calm, and she cart-wheeled out of harm's way, then flipping over and over to put distance between them. Sam spun on the balls of her feet. And as she skimmed towards the far wall she pushed her energy backwards. It struck the wall and projected her like a shot, once more aiming for her opponent. It was strong and fast, and this time Jinx couldn't dance her way out of the reverberating winds, the circular currents cutting like rotating blades.

The Goth-girl cried out in surprise when the ripples sliced the hem of her dress, ripping her leggings. As she back-flipped, Asami pulled her power up, catching her across the face at the last minute. When they both slid apart, Sam turned to see Jinx put a hand to her face, seeing a small welt of blood across her cheek.

For a moment, Jinx seemed astonished, wiping the bud of red from her face. But instead of growing angry or scared, a huge, morbid grin lifted her features into a wolfish visage, and her pink eyes widened eagerly.

"Mmm, now that's more my style." It was a pleased, vicious whisper.

Asami did not bother trying to understand her words. Instead, she stood tall under that half-crazed expression of excitement and thought of the boys. She said, "Push it over goal line. Kamakaze beats visual kei Lolita, all time."

"Every time?" The other girl chuckled. "We'll see about that." She snapped her fingers.

And Sam clapped her hands together, drawing her power around her. But instead of attacking, the bright light of the other's probability manipulation powers severed the ceiling. More of the building overhead came crashing down, broken anew, the church moaning like something caught in the throes of death. Jinx turned and tumbled, spun and arched—always outside the danger. Until she vanished back into the shadows, the falling rubble blocking Asami from going after her.

As the way cleared, Sam leaped over the new wreckage with a little aide from her meta-powers. She went from one mound to the next, letting the winds clear her way, steady her balance. She couldn't tell which hole Jinx crawled back into to escape. "_Che_!"

And yet, somehow, Sam knew the girl hadn't fled the battlefield. She was taunting her to follow, trying to lead her towards... who knew what? Asami had no idea what was happening here, why it seemed constantly on the verge of both friend and foe.

So instead she decided to find out what happened to Tye.

* * *

><p>As Virgil came to the second story level, he felt a concentrated gust of air hurl off the landing, sending dust-bunnies spinning like tumbleweeds caught in miniature twisters. Thinking See-More responsible, he left the flight—only to discover this hallway was nearly demolished! It looked like a demented bulldozer had torn through, and recently.<p>

What he never expected to find, however, was a familiar ripple of light radiating from below the split floor, midway through the hall. The lashing air grew, and he saw Asami using her meta-power to boost herself up from under the ruins.

"Sam!" He rushed to her, stumbling and sliding over the catastrophic devastation, which threatened to give under his weight. As he half-fell towards the gaping hole, he took her hand, helping her climb the last bit of way. "Sam, what're you doin' here?"

Releasing her power, her eyes wide, she said, "Virgil-kun okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. But—"

Without waiting, Sam jerked him by the hand, trying to backtrack towards the stairs. "Tye-kun trouble! Soshite Edu-kun? Hayaku, please!"

_Oh shit..._ He knew it all along, that once Ed found his hat the other Runaways would come looking for him. Now he wished they hadn't. Virgil wasn't sure how they found him, nor could he guess what in the world was happening here in this Hell. But he felt certain of the severity of the situation. _We're all here, apart and in danger. Damn, this isn't good!_

He gripped her hand back, letting her know he understood. The pair struggled back over the hall's remains, Virgil clearing their way with his electricity. And as they finally reached the stairwell, tripping up in the dark, they heard a roaring boom of some monstrous battle below.

* * *

><p>Dispirited, Eduardo wasn't completely ready when the other swung his cloak around his shoulders, the blackness causing him to vanish. Literally. Ed swallowed back a gasp, watching the body seem to meld with the other shadows, disappearing entirely. He remembered the shadow-figure he saw at the apartments, and confusion erupted.<p>

It was this boy. And he had _helped_ them.

What was going on here?

Then the cold winds burst through the cement expanse; Ed shifted his weight, taking a fighting stance. He saw the red eyes appear under the staircase. Then the draft, and the boy sunk into the floor, gone again.

Ed was breathing heavily, brain working to comprehend, but he knew one thing for certain... Hastily, he scanned the basement, eyes searching the terrible darkness—and then he turned around to an icy stab of air and red eyes staring him in the face, inches away.

He jerked back from the placid gaze, but there was no challenge made. It irritated Eduardo, who gave the other an angry side sneer. "So you can teleport, huh?"

The face was expressionless and patient, once again giving no verbal reply.

"Doesn't impress me." And Ed teleported in turn, snapping into the golden void of his own power.

Emerging from the Zeta-field, he was now behind the dark-clad teen in a mocking display. Yet Ed wasn't about to play his waiting game. As he appeared, even before the light faded, he kicked the other in the small of his back, pushing him away. Almost instantly, the boy regained his equilibrium, planting his feet and sliding. He tensed at the core and spun gracefully, lashing out.

His jabs were swift and well-aimed, and Ed realized he had training beyond using his powers. He parried, not as reflexive, and he had to pull back. Taking the chance, Ed teleported again, just soon enough to dodge a punch.

He re-appeared on the plane, at a distance. And so did the cloaked teenager. One warm gold, the other freezing black, they both came back in the same moment, in the same direction. Ed cursed. _He doesn't need sightlines!_ And that would be his downfall, because his eyes would give him away every time. His damn power.

The kid swung a fist, his cape flying. Ed jumped away from the incoming blow and the boy's fist missed—but not the snap of his cape. There was a baritone _click_ as the tip of his jagged hemline caught Ed in the face, and Ed felt a sudden, sharp sting on his chin. The points! The cape's cut allowed each tip to be reinforced with steel.

Double trouble, now he had to worry about the reach of the uniform. Ed was quick enough to drop below the next aim, and he counter-attacked by ramming an elbow into the other's stomach. But instead of being forced back, his opponent let his weight drop down. Simultaneously lifting his cape around them both.

Once again Ed was sucked into the frigid void. Coming back, he was too stunned to fight the grappling hands of the wicked kid, who had him by the scarf, using it to throw Ed roughly off his feet. Half-choked, Ed lost his balance and fell heavily to his knees, pitching forward. As he tumbled to the ground, his vest flung up his shoulders. Coughing, he unconsciously whipped the frayed drape back—

And a piece of cardstock fell out of his pocket.

His father's business card.

All of a sudden, the weighted despair lifted from Ed's spirits, like the break of dawn pulling him from a nightmare. His mind cleared in a tidal wave of emotions. As he stared at the phone numbers, he could hear his father's hopeful words: _"Maybe,__ when this is over, you will come home?"_

Come home... There was no mistaking that acceptance. His father wanted him back in his life. He had a home waiting.

_"Nobody wants you!" _The hidden demon tried to remind.

With affectionate purpose, Eduardo Jr. picked up the card, clutching it as his salvation, his future. He was no longer willing to believe it, the anger, the childhood tears, the misery. Whatever happened in the past between father and son was over. Perhaps not yet reconciled, but he felt sure his father was ready to try, just as he was. What mattered now was surviving. No, it was _fighting_. The voice in his head was a lie, everything happening in this underground world was deceiving. And he needed to get out.

"Crafty cabrón," Eduardo growled, glaring at the boy standing calmly, expectant of an answer. "Did you think I'd just lay down and die?"

Oddly, the boy shook his head, still giving him the passive silent treatment.

With angry pride, Ed gave the card to the care of his buttoned breast pocket. Then he brought his eyes up—and teleported.

He came free of the Zeta glow, setting down on the last stair he could see, and bolted the rest of the way up the flight. Cold gusts of wind at his back told him the kid was following. But the door was still open, whatever specter had been taunting him gone.

Eduardo raced from the pantry, finding himself in a massive, rather commercial-looking kitchen. As he came free of the black basement realm, an echoing quake shook the room, the walls shuddering as something large struck somewhere. He slid on the linoleum, knocking into the island counter. _What the hell was that?_

He took in the whole of the unlit room, finding cabinets, cupboards, and only one door. _That's my way out!_ Without another thought, disregarding the ruckus, he ran to that door, throwing it open and coming into an arching alcove. There was something strangely pious in the theme of the building, and Ed almost felt prompted to seek blessing by Crossing himself.

He hadn't the chance as he came from the alcove into a vast, open hall. Perhaps at one time a dining arrangement, it was now a cataclysm of broken tables, snapped pews, and litter; dust hung low, churned up by a sudden battle. The walls were seared with black ash. There was light in this room.

He was halted in his dash, eyes fixed on a large cross ahead, befitting the religious quality of the construct. Suddenly, another quake rocked the hall, and the cross tipped off its base, began to fall backwards. Towards Eduardo.

Backing away, he began to reach for his power, to return to the safety of the alcove —

Until he saw the glowing outline of two large hands grab the collapsing fixture.

"Tye!?"

Lifting the substantial cross as easily as if it were a tiny pendant, the Apache boy's astral projection set the burden aside, rescuing him. The golden form was not in its most colossal size, and there was something unsettling about that, as if Tye were unable to use the full force of his meta-power.

Sinking to the ground from the heart of the Spirit, the light of his power pooled into his own chest, dissipating. Tye opened his eyes, and Ed could see a cold fire burning in them; he was more angry than Ed had ever seen him.

Rushing into the battleground with an alarmed confusion, Ed asked, "What are you doing here? Where are we?"

Tye refused his aid, instead pulling himself up and beckoning his friend off in warning. "Careful—"

And even as he spoke, Ed felt the cold air raising from the ground nearby. The portal crackled wide, the malevolent looking teenager levitating over the threshold with a flutter of his black cloak. Tye gasped, the look on his face becoming one of puzzlement and combative suspicion. This one was not Tye's rival.

No, he was Ed's. Grounding himself back into a rigid fighting posture, Ed prepared to face another round.

Then a crowing laugh resounded throughout the great room, and Eduardo jumped at the sudden appearance of the new character. The boy was small, having the chubby frame of a toddler and as bald as a newborn. Yet he was strapped to a mechanical jetpack, sharp wings and flaring power propelling him through the air at a high-velocity. His black eyes were shielded by goggles, and he looked more like a scientist than an aviator. The word wunderkind sprang to mind.

Worse, the kid was ecstatic over his brainiac display and disorder. Shooting around the place, the pack equipped with weapons en mass, he had been the one charring the dining hall, the one sparring against Tye.

As if in confirmation to his assumption, Tye's hands balled strongly into fists and he glared at the child-prodigy. He backed towards Ed, and the two boys stood at the ready, shoulder-to-shoulder. Strangely enough, their opponents made not a move against them, an all-too-familiar scenario to Ed. Anticipation was thick upon the room, silencing, and Ed had the fleeting sensation they were all of them _waiting_. It felt too much like being at the labs with expectant scientists anxious to see their meta-genes at work.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the two kid predators.

Tye just shook his head.

Just then, a playful giggle lifted from the shadows, hushed at first but growing louder. Eduardo stiffened at the recognizable sound, turning to find the Goth-girl lurking nearby. Her appearance did not surprise him, but what she said in his direction _did_.

"Tye and Asami sitting in a tree~" The sing-song way in which she spoke the names made a resentful tickle wash over Ed's skin; Tye swung to face her, his body language tight. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

_Crazy. This is all crazy,_ Ed told himself. Yet... her tone... Her tone bothered him. She wasn't teasing like some lewd schoolgirl at recess. She was openly slapping him with a fact; he felt it as clearly as a tap on the shoulder. Or a stab in the chest. He looked at Tye—he couldn't help himself, the voice of the girl so sure and mocking—but the other proudly tensed, and decisively refused to meet his eyes, like he was pleased yet embarrassed. Somehow, despite the antagonistic situation, Eduardo _knew_.

The amount of jealous contempt which welled up amazed him, but he couldn't stop the hurt glare he hit Tye with. And Tye caught it in turn, his eyes narrowing in a morphing range of feelings. Tye's lips parted to speak, but:

"Nah, girl!"

They whipped around towards the other new voice raised in gaiety. It was a boy dressed in a bold green-and-white uniform, his face nothing but one large eyeball. Ed's glare grew even more overwrought and disgusted.

"It goes more like: Two little Injuns foolin' with a gun. One shot t'other and then there was one!" He waggled a sole finger in their direction, his words full of a curious implication.

"Ooh, yes," she breathed seductively, her eyes searching first Eduardo's face, and then Tye's. To the latter she gave an all-knowing wink. "One little Injun living all alone. He got married and then there were none."

"What do you think, Gizmo?"

The runt science-whiz snorted in ridicule, then laughed. "I think it's jumpin' the gun." With a push of a controller button, two rifle muzzles lifted from the backpack, one over each small shoulder. "I haven't even warmed my lasers yet."

Movement out of the corner of his eye told Ed the cloaked teleporter shook his head. Again helping them?

"Kyd Wykkyd's right," the girl said softly, and something about her demeanor changed. She sounded authoritative but cautious, the smile gone from her face. "Not yet."

"Why not?" At the sudden band of motley bullies toying with them, Tye became even more enraged, stalking towards the girl. "Come on, you afraid to stand up to me? I'm sick of this! Stop hiding behind your schoolyard sticks n' stones shit. If you have something to say, say it to my face!"

"_They_ do not have anything to say, my dear boy," a smooth, deep voice suddenly announced. "I do."

* * *

><p><strong> Note:<strong> Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "A Chance" by Torn In Two. All rights reserved and no infringement is intended.


End file.
